


go ahead and cry little boy

by soulofme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Child Abuse, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Football Player Levi, M/M, POV Alternating, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Build, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, blond levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 143,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger dreams of living in a world where his sister is alive and he doesn’t have to use his treasured coping mechanisms to feel something other than pain. But life has a way of crushing everything in its destructive path, and Eren finds himself in a downwards spiral that doesn’t appear to be heading up anytime soon.</p><p>As captain of Shiganshina High's football team, Levi Ackerman acts as a pillar of support for his teammates. But once he’s off the field and out of his jersey, he becomes just <i>Levi<i>. Levi Ackerman may be able to help other people, but Levi sure as hell can’t fend for himself against his alcoholic uncle.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>No one else has felt their pain, no one else has lived through what they have, and no one else will ever understand them. But everything changes once they strike up an unconventional relationship that forces them to bare all of their scars.</i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: Eren

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood.

Friday night, way past my curfew.

I’m in the backseat of Officer Jean Kirschstein’s car, listening as his radio crackles and spits out police lingo that I don’t bother asking a translation for. I watch him tap his fingers against the steering wheel for a while before I lean forward and poke my head through the divider.

“No handcuffs?” I ask.

His eyes meet mine in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re not under arrest.”

“Damn. That would have been a good story to tell.”

Jean clicks his tongue and turns left, and a ball of dread coils in the pit of my stomach. He stops at the end of my driveway and yanks the key from the ignition before getting out of the car and leaning down next to my window. I look at the dark bags under his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he says, and I reluctantly step out of the car.

On nights like these, I tend to forget that he’s my brother-in-law. Or is it former brother-in-law? I don’t know. The whole thing's a little complicated.

Every step towards the front door feels heavy, and I expect Jean to drop me off and leave. Instead, he stays with me and leans against the porch railing with his arms crossed over his chest. I look at his squad car and then back at him, but he doesn’t seem to get my silent hint.

“Thanks for the ride.” I grin at him, but it hurts my cheeks so I stop. “See you later. Night.”

Jean presses his lips into a thin line and says nothing. I sigh to myself and raise my hand to press the doorbell. I hear it chime from inside, and the rapid sound of footsteps meet my ears. The door slams open and my parents stare at me, their hair messy and their eyes drooping from exhaustion. I nearly wince at the sight and have to force myself to keep my composure.

“Hey guys.” I nod at them and jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Look who came to say hi.”

Jean pushes himself off of the porch railing and nods at my parents. My mom reaches out to grab his arm, her eyes filled with an emotion I can’t place. He gives her the same look and places his hand on hers, and I feel like I’m intruding on an intimate moment or something. I look at my father, but he’s focused on Jean.

I fidget uncomfortably in my spot until Mom invites Jean inside. He tells her he’s on duty but he promises to stop by later in the week. Then he parts with a stern look aimed my way. I wait until his squad car has left my sight before I walk into the house, ignoring the piercing glares from my parents.

“Where were you?” Mom asks, her voice taking on that sharp edge she only has with me.

“First I decided to go to the park,” I begin, my voice even. “But then I decided I wanted to do something different, so I robbed some poor, defenseless lady and got drunk in the backseat of an abandoned car.”

I know she doesn’t believe me and I know my father is pretty much done with all my nightly antics. I watch as he presses his fingers to his eyes and doesn’t say anything. Mom grabs his arm and tugs his hands away, and when they look at each other I feel out of place again.

“Eren,” Dad begins, sounding as tired as he looks. “I think you should-”

“I’m gonna hit the sack,” I say abruptly, not even bothering to wait for an answer as I bound up the stairs. “Night!”

I throw myself down on my bed and press my fingers to my cold cheeks. The lamp in my room sheds an orange glow onto everything. I lean over and turn my radio on. It crackles for a few seconds before some alternative rock station comes in clearly. I flop back down and close my eyes, pretending that I know the song. It’s not hard.

I’m good at pretending, after all.

* * *

Monday, 8:17 in the morning. I’m walking up the stairs to school, and in my head I’m pretending like I’m hot shit. It’s easier to be something you’re not. Countless experiments on my part have proven that to be a fact.

No one says hi to me. Maybe that’s because I don’t have friends. Well, not anymore at least. I haven’t had any since _that_ day, and I guess that’s my fault. If you push people away long enough, they’ll eventually get the message.

Today is evidence of that. I pass by Krista Lenz, who now goes by Historia for some strange reason, and she doesn’t even seem to realize it’s me. Maybe it’s because she’s like three feet tall, or maybe it’s because the last time she talked to me I cursed her out and spit at the ground in front of her feet.

Either way, she walks past me without a glance my way. If I didn’t look right at her face, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it was her. People grow apart and move on to newer, better things. It’s not like relationships are set in stone.

Take Jean, for example. I bet he didn’t think the whole “til death do us part” thing would happen so soon, but the big guy upstairs doesn’t really give a shit about him. Or anyone, for that matter. Maybe that’s why I don’t believe in him anymore. Or maybe it’s because I stopped giving a shit too.

The bell rings and I don’t even bother walking faster. There are some kids who seem to be doing the same, and for a few seconds I feel like we have a connection. Maybe they don’t give a shit either. Or maybe they didn’t hear the bell (which would actually be hard to miss, but you never know).

I arrive to my English class with nothing but the clothes on my back. When I open the door everyone looks at me and then looks away, like I’m not interesting enough to look at. Maybe I’m not. The only thing interesting about me is my jeans, and that’s only because I took scissors to them over the weekend and made as many holes in them as I could.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Jaeger,” Mr. Smith says, and a part of me kinda wants to hate him. He’s a nice enough guy, but if you piss him off he’s a passive-aggressive jerk.

I take an over exaggerated bow, earning a few snickers from some of my classmates. A smile forms on my face as I move to my seat. I live for this. I thrive off of the stares, the annoyed eye rolls, the whispers. Hell, I doubt I’ll ever tire of them.

I turn around slightly to see Levi Ackerman is raising his eyebrows at me. He sits back in his seat, basically slouching, and doesn’t look at me again.

Levi Ackerman is the kind of guy that people drool over. He’s a little on the short side, but he’s got really nice eyes and biceps that could make anyone want to fuck him. His hair used to be dark, but after a bet with his friends he dyed it blond. Not a lot of guys look good with blond. Or maybe I’m not into blond guys. Dark haired guys? Fuck yeah, sign me up. Blond guys? Nah, pass.

Unless the guy is Levi Ackerman, captain of the Titans, our very successful football team. Levi’s got the kind of name where you feel like you gotta say everything. Just Levi sounds like you’re a peasant disrespecting a king, which is kinda what he’s like around here. Not because he rules the school or anything like that. It's more because people respect him. He's a cool guy, I guess. I wouldn’t know.

Calling him Ackerman makes me sound like I’m one of his football buddies, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing. You know, the whole pretending to be something you’re not thing. It proves to be helpful when you're trying to get through the hell known as high school. 

But I’m not Levi's friend, and I can only pretend for so long. So I call him Levi Ackerman every chance I get. And by every chance, I mean in my head. I never dared to start a conversation, and the only words he’s said to me are snide little comments here and there. It doesn't bother me, though. I'm not trying to make friends.

Once everyone gets over the fact that I showed up late again, Mr. Smith goes on with his lesson. His hair shines golden in the sunlight, but it’s not all that impressive. I think about a week ago, when Levi read a poem about cliffs and crashing waves, and my face flushes red. His hair had shone golden too, and I almost regret paying more attention to it than his even, bored voice.

I feel eyes on the back of my head and wonder if Levi Ackerman knows how much I think about it.

* * *

Tuesday, 10:13 am. I’m skipping school, curled under a fleece blanket and on my phone. I read through the messages again and again and force myself to ignore the fact that they’ve been there for over two years. I read about planning Dad’s surprise party and running away to New York, and when I shove my phone under my pillow I pretend that it’s not there. Sometimes I like to torture myself with the memories, but it’s always too much. Everything is always too damn _much_.

My phone buzzes to life. I stick my hand back under the pillow and see that Jean is trying to get in touch with me. I hold it in my hands, staring at the screen. The phone goes still until a text message pops up, and I open it after a few minutes of deliberation.

 _Your mom says to get your ass to school. I’m coming to pick you up._   **-Jean**

I put my phone down and listen as the front door squeaks open. If Mikasa were here, she would have laughed and-

I freeze, the blood draining out of my face. Her name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I slowly sit up. Jean’s footsteps get louder until I feel like they’re pounding in my ear, and he’s at my doorway before I can shove the images of my sister into a dark recess of my mind that I’ll never go into again.

“You ever wonder what would happen if people didn’t hate each other?” I ask him. “Because I do, and I think you’d be out of a job then.”

He doesn’t answer and tugs my blankets back. He sits himself on the edge of my bed, his shirt wrinkled and his hands cradling his head. He’s not in his work uniform, and the jeans on his legs look weird. I’m not used to seeing him like this.

“Long night?” I ask.

“Long night,” he says back, and we sit like this until my mom comes home at three.

* * *

Thursday, the middle of English class. Levi’s at the front of the room again, this time with Isabel Magnolia and Farlan Church on either side. Isabel’s talking in this loud, bubbly voice. I bet she could be a cheerleader, but I’m pretty sure she hates anything athletic. The only reason I know that is because I had gym class with her and Sasha Blouse freshman year, and they got along fabulously as they made fun of the soccer players. Farlan is tapping his fingers against his thigh in rhythm I can’t follow, and Levi’s staring at one of the desks while holding up a colorful poster.

I don’t remember what the assignment had been, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about that. I can’t remember the last time I gave a shit about my school work. Levi looks at me for a fraction of a second before his eyes drift across the room. The corner of his lips quirk up into a grin, and I glance over to see Reiner Braun making some kind of silly face at whatever Isabel’s saying. Reiner’s one of the football players, and if he was half a foot shorter and dark-haired maybe I’d go for him.

Levi, Isabel, and Farlan wrap up their presentation and ask us if we have any questions. I want to say something, but decide against it and fold my hands underneath the desk. Levi nods, like he’s satisfied, and I realize that he doesn’t like speaking in front of the class. He takes a deep breath and walks back to his seat faster than I’ve ever seen anyone walk.

I’m probably the only one watching him closely enough to realize that, and a sense of pride fills me. It’s like I unintentionally found out one of his deep and dark secrets. I never thought that the football captain would hate public speaking, but Levi is proof that maybe I don’t have the world figured out as much as I think I do.

I have this thing where I go through phases. Some days I’m more daring than usual and do things that I would never do. Today is one of them. I refer to Levi just as Levi and don’t look away when he catches me staring. Once he’s down in his seat and Mr. Smith is calling up the next group, I turn and put one of my fake smiles on my face.

“What?” he snaps, and I realize how grey his eyes are. They remind me of storm clouds, of liquid metal, of the fluffy kitten Mikasa-

I squash the thought dead. Levi gives me strange look as I suddenly look at the floor.

“Nice project,” I finally say. “Didn’t know you were into glitter.”

I turn around, my phase officially over. Levi doesn’t respond, and I’m happy he doesn’t. I have nothing more to say to him. Telling him that I think he’s the best thing to walk the halls of this school sounds lame and dumb, and for once I’d like to pretend that I’m not. It’s not true, anyway. I’m not into him like that.

After school, I take my guitar and a pack of cigarettes to the park. I sit on the swings and try to look studious, chewing on the end of the cigarette and placing my fingers on the guitar strings. They dig into my skin and cause this weird sensation to form in my fingertips. It’s like my blood circulation is slowly getting cut off, and I think about how that would feel if it was my neck instead.

I raise a hand up to press to my throat. When I feel my heart drumming steady against my fingers, I throw the guitar down and hunch over in the swing. The cigarette leaves an odd taste in my mouth, and even though it’s unlit I feel like it’s slowly turning my lungs black.

I’ve never smoked a day in my life, but when I close my eyes I get an image of an open window and smoke fumes curling into the night sky. I think about whispered dreams and broken promises, and a slow burn begins in my stomach. I let my mind run wild, let my brain continue showing me the pool in the summer or gingerbread houses at Christmas. I think of long black hair and calm, dark eyes, of a red scarf and a hint of a smile on a small mouth.

I think of my sister without saying her name, but somehow it still hurts just as much.

* * *

Saturday evening, too fucking late o' clock. I’m staring up at the ceiling, headphones on and some indie band crooning into my ears. I never liked indie. But there I am, feet against the wall and head pressed to the bed, drumming out a rhythm on my stomach.

I’ve got another unlit cigarette between my lips, the mostly full pack sitting in one of the garbage bins in the boys’ bathroom in school. My guitar is smashed, nothing but a pile of wire and wood. My parents would be mad if they knew, but I push all thoughts of family away until the only thing I’m thinking about is how much my music taste sucks.

I yank my headphones off and grab my jacket. It’s not even cold outside, but it adds to the whole angsty teen look I’ve got going on. As I walk right out of the front door, I wonder if my parents even care that I sneak out anymore. Is it still sneaking out if you use the front door? Or does it turn into just leaving whenever you want to?

I think about it as I walk down the sidewalk, my footsteps and breathing the only thing I can hear. The warm air makes my skin feel sticky and prickly, but I ignore it and close my eyes. A lone car drives past, and I imagine what would happen if I were to jump in front of it. The muscles in my legs twitch, as if they want to know too.

Before I can move, the car is gone. One of the streetlights I pass flickers threateningly, and I wonder what the world be if it was always dark. Would that be what death was like? Would it just be a long, eternal stretch of darkness? Is heaven even a real thing? Fuck, is hell even real?

They’re questions I would have asked my sister. She would have rolled her eyes and scolded me, told me not to question the shit they teach you in church, and sent me on my merry way. If Jean was home, he’d probably make funny faces behind her back until she turned and smacked him on the nose.

The thought has me stopping in my tracks. I feel like I’ve gotten punched in the gut, and I place my hand over my stomach just to make sure. My heart beat begins to pick up, and before I know it I’m sprinting ahead. The blood is rushing in my veins, the wind whipping harshly against my face and whistling past my ears. My feet pound down on the sidewalk and my eyes blur with tears. I keep running, jumping off of curbs and dashing in between cars. No one’s awake at this time. No one can see how I’m feeling.

I’m so overwhelmed that I don’t notice the person before me until it’s too late. We crash to the sidewalk, heads knocking hard enough to cause spots to dance in my vision. My palms skid against the sidewalk, and my chin bangs down hard enough to send my teeth clacking against each other. I hold my bloodied palms to my chest and bring myself up onto my knees. My body is shaking hard but my vision is clear.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

It takes a few seconds for me to recognize the voice, and when I do I look to see Levi glaring holes into the side of my head. He runs his fingers through his hair, fixing the blond strands astray across his forehead. He brings himself up, hands shoved into the pockets of the school-issued jacket every football player gets. His name and jersey number are printed on the breast of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” I say, still struggling to catch my breath. My face feels dirty and my chin hurts like a bitch.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Levi squats in front of me and snaps his fingers in front of my face so that I'm looking at him. “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I say, but then I remember he gets pushed around nearly every day after school. “Never mind. Sorry.”

I stand up and the world spins in a blur. Levi grabs my arm to steady me, his grey eyes narrowed so much that I wonder if he can even see me.

“What the fuck are you doing out so late anyway?” he asks, and I nearly collapse back onto the ground. Levi Ackerman is talking to me, I realize. Levi Ackerman is worried about my well-being. Probably my sanity too, but let’s ignore that for now.

“Contemplating the meaning of life,” I say. “Wondering why humans bothered inventing time. Why are curfews a thing? Why do people care if you waste your life away or not?”

I have no idea what I’m talking about. Unsurprisingly, Levi doesn’t either. He runs his fingers through his hair again and tilts his head back. I wince when I see a hickey on his throat, a strange feeling curling in the pit of my stomach.

“Sorry, again,” I say.

“Whatever,” he says, and we make eye contact again. “You’re Eren, right?”

It’s probably meant to be a question, but the way he says it tells me that he knows exactly who I am. I nod slowly, licking my chapped lips.

“Eren Jaeger, resident loser at your service. Careful, a good guy like you can’t be seen with a freak like me.”

I’m not sure why I’m saying this to him. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain and says all these things that I don’t want to. People usually ignore it. But then again, most people ignore me in general.

“You’re fucking weird,” he says, and his damn hand is in his hair again. He clicks his tongue and puts his hand back into his pocket. “You look like shit.”

I’m wearing faded jeans and a tee-shirt with a band I don’t even listen to on the front. My hair probably looks like crap and I can feel blood running down my neck from my chin. I plaster a big smile on my face and open my mouth to speak.

“When you’re a loser you don’t care about what you look like.”

Levi gives me this strange look, like I’m speaking a foreign language, and clicks his tongue again.

“You’re not a loser,” he mutters. “Weird, yes. Loser? Nah. I know what a loser is, and that’s not what you are.”

The comment catches me off guard. Is he complimenting me? I don’t know what to make of it. I clear my throat softly and focus on the tar on the sidewalk.

“Compared to you I’m a loser. Everyone knows who you are. People love you, football captain or not,” I say. Again, my mouth’s running without my brain to stop it.

Levi has an unreadable expression on his face. I swallow harshly and wipe the blood on my neck away.

“You never answered my question,” he says.

“What question?” I ask.

“Why are you out here?”

“I answered that,” I say.

“Not seriously,” he says. “Don’t ask me why I care, because I don’t. I just want to know if you plan on knocking another person over.”

“No,” I say, and lick my lips again. I need some lip balm. I make a note to buy some later. “I just wanted to go for a walk.”

“It’s past midnight.”

“Well why are you out here?” I snap. Levi raises his eyebrows in surprise before shrugging.

“Just wanted to go for a walk,” he says, and walks away before I can add anything else.

I think about grabbing his arm, about talking to him some more. But I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough today. I curl my fingers and ignore the searing pain in my palm. I fish my phone out of my pocket so I can call Jean.

* * *

“Why do you keep doing this?” Jean asks as soon as he pulls up to the curb. “And what the hell happened to your face?”

“I was fighting off a hoard of fangirls,” I lie. “You wouldn’t believe how persistent they were.”

Jean doesn’t pull away from the curb. He sits in the driver’s seat, studying my face. He reminds me of Dr. Trook, the therapist I went to see after Mikasa died. He had been a greying old man with more wrinkles on his face that a person ought to have, but he was patient and kind. He kinda treated me like I was still five, but I didn’t mind. Being treated like an adult meant taking responsibility for my actions.

I hadn’t been ready for that. I doubt I’ll ever be.

“Something on my face?” I say, and Jean shakes his head. He runs his fingers through his hair and I think of Levi.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Jean says. “I know it’s been tough on you, Eren. You lost your sister and I lost my wife. But I think you could benefit from trying to move on.”

I feel like I’ve swallowed a cupful of snow.

“You want me to get over it?” I say, clenching my hands into fists. My fingernails bite into my scratches and sting so badly that it feels like they’re burning. “It’s not that easy!”

I know why I’m raising my voice. It’s a tactic my dad regularly practices. If you raise your voice loud enough, you can drown out whatever the other person is saying. If I yell loud enough, I can pretend Jean isn’t saying something I need to hear.

“I know, Eren,” he says. I wonder why he isn’t yelling back. I wonder why he won’t kick me out of the car and tell me to walk home.

I want to apologize, but the words won’t leave my lips. I settle back against the seat and don’t say anything.

Jean sighs softly before he slowly pulls away from the curb.


	2. Two: Levi

All I can think about as I stand outside of Reiner’s house is the million ways this night could go wrong. When you combine the football team and alcohol things tend to get...well,  _messy_.

Take a couple days ago, for example. An innocent game of truth or dare turns into Marco Bott giving me a hickey. We don’t have any feelings for each other, but a dare is a dare and Marco tends to loosen up once he’s had a few drinks. Of course now we can barely even look at each other, but I’m sure things will go back to normal after a few more weeks. You know, time heals all wounds or whatever.

I take a deep breath and gather my courage. It’s not much, but it’s enough to stop my hands from shaking like a leaf. I climb Reiner’s stairs and twist the door open. He never locks his door because he’s a fucking idiot, but today I’m grateful. I can go in, talk a little bit, and get the hell out before shit starts hitting the fan.

As soon as I walk in, people start coming up to me. Some of them I know, others I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in my life. I greet them all the same, the smile on my face so fake that it's a damn wonder no one realizes.

I make my way to the living room in search of the man of the hour. Reiner and I make eye contact. I feel my heart seize up in my chest. I force myself to take deep breaths and watch as Reiner pushes his way through the crowd. He stops in front of me and grins widely, clasping my shoulder in his free hand. I wince at his strong grip.

“Captain!” He pauses to sip at his cup. Cheap beer, probably, unless Thomas somehow managed to snag a bottle of Jack from his parent’s liquor cabinet again. “You made it.”

“I didn’t want to hear your bitching,” I say. It’s true, more or less, and Reiner laughs loudly for some reason. I shift uncomfortably and wonder what excuse I can use to leave early this time. “You really don’t waste time, do you? Didn’t the party just start?”

Reiner throws me a smirk, takes another gulp of his drink, and sidles past me to greet someone else.

I let my breath leave my lips slowly before I take up my usual position against the wall. The music’s way too loud, the room is hot as balls, and I just want to go home. Well, maybe not home. But getting out of here? Sounds like a plan.

“Hey, stranger.”

I look up from the ground to see Isabel standing before me. She looks extremely out of place. Her bright orange headphones hang around her neck, and she adjusts the collar of her huge, black sweater.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, surprised. Isabel never liked parties, and neither did Farlan. Before I joined the football team, Friday nights between the three of us were spent watching Netflix and sharing popcorn.

“I came with Petra.” She points over to a girl with strawberry blonde hair. Her name sounds familiar, but I can’t place her. “It’s for the newspaper club. You know, the gossip column.”

“Oh,” I say. I didn’t even realize our school had a newspaper club. I feel awkward. Isabel and I have been friends for years, but somehow I find myself wishing this conversation would just end. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I would say the same for you, but you seem comfortable.”

I blink at her slowly. I can’t remember the last time I talked to her without it being for a school project. We used to be inseparable. Now it feels like I can’t even remember who she is.

“I guess so,” I say evenly. I clear my throat quietly. “Look, Isabel. Are we…?”

I trail off. What am I even trying to say?

Luckily, Isabel seems to know.

“Okay?” She tucks her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I don’t know, are we? You only seem to need me and Farlan when you’re trying to get a good grade.”

Her words are sharp enough to cut me, and for a few seconds I wonder if they actually have. I open my mouth to justify myself, to explain that I can’t be the Levi she’s used to, that  _things are different okay_ , but everything sounds like an excuse.

Isabel’s always hated excuses.

“That’s not fair,” I settle for saying. Isabel’s eyebrows pinch together angrily, but then her face relaxes.

“I guess not,” she scoffs. “I mean, you’re Levi Ackerman, captain of the football team. Everybody’s trailing after you. So what if you lose a couple of friends? You have ten more to replace them.”

“Isabel!” I don’t know why I’m getting angry. Isn’t she right? Doesn’t she have a good point?

“What?” she snaps. She shakes her head. “Look, Levi,” she’s practically spitting my name out. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

_Tell me we’re okay. Tell me you’re not going anywhere. Tell me nothing’s gonna change._

I don’t dare to speak. Isabel looks at me for a few seconds, her eyes searching my face. But then she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, shakes her head in disappointment, and stalks off. I watch as her body blends in with everyone else’s. I only look away when the top of her head is completely out of my vision.

I’ve only been here for a few minutes, but I need to get out. I push myself off of the wall and run through all the list of possible excuses I could use in case Reiner sees me. Luckily, though, he’s off in another part of the house.

I step back onto the porch and press my fingers into my eyes. I can still feel the music rattling my bones. I step off of the porch and walk to the sidewalk, the gravel of Reiner’s driveway crunching underneath my feet.

I swear that I can feel eyes on me, but I’m too chicken shit to look. The chance that anyone cares where I’m going,  _actually_  cares, is very slim. Isabel and Farlan had been the last of those kinds of friends. All I have now are the guys on the football team. Considering how we have nothing in common off of the field, that’s not much.

I click my tongue and shove my hands into my pockets. My knees are still scraped up from when that Jaeger guy ran into me, but I didn’t bring my car. Not that it would have mattered, though. I don’t drive. For now, at least.

I think of how Kenny might be home by now and almost shudder. He’s very unreasonable when he’s drunk and tired, and I doubt tonight will be an exception. If I’m lucky, he might have conked out while watching reruns of  _Law and Order_.

I reach my house and pause outside of the door. I could run away now and never look back. But wouldn’t that make me a coward? I’d be no better than Kenny...or my father.

I twist the doorknob, my heart sinking when I see that it’s unlocked.

Kenny’s awake.

“I’m home,” I call, standing in the doorway.

“I’m in the living room,” Kenny calls back.

My hands begin to tremble as I approach the living room.

* * *

I stumble upstairs, my legs shaking so badly that I can’t even walk straight. I finally reach the bathroom and lean over the counter. My stomach is churning, and at the very last second I drop to my knees and hunch over the toilet. My lunch makes a sudden reappearance, and once I’ve finished puking my guts out I force myself to reach up and flush the toilet.

My throat is burning. I press my fingers against it and lean my head back against the cold wall. The bathroom tile is freezing beneath my feet. My entire body hurts. I’m tempted to just lay here and sleep, but then I remember how filthy the floor must be.

I bring myself up to my feet. The world spins around a few times before it settles. I look into the mirror. My face is unmarked, as usual. I lift up my shirt and stare at the dark bruises blossoming along my abdomen. Kenny’s not an idiot, that’s for sure. He’s never once hit my face, and maybe I should be grateful for that.

I press my fingers against one of the bruises and hiss.

Yeah, fuck that. I’m not grateful for shit.

Kenny’s the reason I don’t use the showers after practice and why I change in the bathroom stalls. When I first started, some of the guys would give me weird looks. When you’re in sixth grade, guys basically fight over each other to change in the stalls. When you’re in twelfth, guys think you’ve got self-esteem issues or something.

But, like everything else in my life, no one asks me. You don’t question your team captain. You just go along with whatever he does.

I take a deep breath and turn the faucet on. I brush my teeth slowly and splash water on my face. My hair is matted down to my forehead with sweat. I can never fight Kenny off, but for some reason I keep trying. It’s like I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not as weak as he says I am.

I run my fingers through my hair and see that my roots are beginning to show. I don’t really care. Going blond hadn’t been my idea, but I was kinda getting used to it. Going back to black wouldn’t be too bad, though.

There’s movement downstairs, and then I hear the basement door slam shut. Kenny has the entire basement to himself and I have the entire top floor. The main floor is pretty much the only place where I see him. If he didn’t insist on beating the shit out of me whenever he’s in a pissy mood, I don’t think I would remember that he lives with me.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. Water is dripping down my face, and I reach up to wipe it away. The bags under my eyes look more pronounced than usual. I look drained, and I suppose I’m not surprised. I  _feel_  drained.

I press my fingers up against my eyes. When I open them again, everything looks distorted. I grip the edge of the counter and hunch over it, praying for this night to end already.

* * *

“So how many of you have been keeping up with the reading?”

Mr. Smith’s voice snaps me out of my daze. I had been staring off into space, but now I remember that I’m in class. I take a few seconds to compose myself and look up. I stifle a yawn and look over at Isabel and Farlan, who are laughing quietly about something.

It’s a painful reminder that we’re going in two completely different directions. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth and focus my gaze on Mr. Smith. He sits on the edge of his desk casually, holding a book in his hand. It’s probably the book we started a couple days ago, but the title escapes me at the moment.

“For those of you who have read, how would you describe the main character?” he asks. A girl raises her hand, and Mr. Smith calls on her. I never bothered to learn her name.

“He seems afraid of a lot of things,” she says. “His friends are all outgoing, but I think he’s too scared to join them. Like he thinks something bad will happen or something.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Smith seems pleased with her. I roll my eyes and focus on the binder on my desk. “Fear can be quite a debilitating thing for some people. As you can see, the main character’s fear poses a serious threat for his enjoyment of life.”

He pauses, his eyes sweeping the room.

“So my question to you is what are _you_ afraid of? What do you feel holds you back?”

I look up quickly at that. He wants us to share our fears? For  _wha_ _t_?

 I glance around the room. No one seems to look worried except for me. My stomach is twisting into knots that even a boy scout would probably give up on.

No one dares to raise their hand, and I mentally curse every one of them to hell. When no one participates, teachers just push even more. I fucking hate that, but I guess it’s some kind of requirement they have as educators. Maybe the misery of students fuel them or something. Who fucking knows.

“How about you, Eren?”

I exhale in relief, slumping down in my seat. My heart returns to normal rhythm, and suddenly I feel like I can breathe again. Eren’s head jerks up, like he had been sleeping or something. I focus on my desk instead of the back of his head. Staring at him like that makes me feel like a fucking creep. Which I’m not, for the record.

“Me?” Eren hums thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting question, Mr. Smith. Isn’t fear just something our mind makes up? I mean, people usually aren’t afraid of what they should be.”

Mr. Smith quirks an eyebrow and stands up.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, clearly interested. I snort and tap my fingers against the desk.

“Well.” Eren clears his throat, and I can tell he’s trying to sound philosophical or some shit like that. I scoff and look across the room at Isabel and Farlan, who seem anxious to hear what Eren’s going to say.

I force myself to look at my desk again.

“There are people who are afraid of things like, I don’t know, moths,” he says. “Moths can’t really do much to you other than ruin your clothes. I feel like people should be afraid of more dangerous things. Like...cars.”

“Cars?” I say before I can stop myself. There’s a lump in my throat that I can’t swallow past. “Who the hell is scared of cars?”

“I’m not saying  _I_  am,” Eren turns in his seat to look at me. “I’m just saying that  _people_  should be more afraid. You see all the stuff in the news about car crashes and stuff, but yet I’m pretty sure most of us took a car this morning. We trusted that we would get here safely. Which brings me to my next point: we should be afraid of trust. You don’t trust people you don’t like, right? And for the most part, those are the people who leave you alone. But the people you trust? They always end up fuck- I mean,  _screwing_  you over.”

I blink at him before narrowing my eyes.

“What, you have trust issues?” I ask, my tone a little snarkly, and Eren lifts an eyebrow mockingly.

“Nah,” he says evenly. “Do  _you_?”

“No,” I snap quickly. Eren smirks and shrugs his shoulders.

Mr. Smith clears his throat warningly. Eren and I break eye contact and look at him.

“That’s very insightful, Eren.” Mr. Smith looks like he doesn’t know how to respond. I can’t blame him. “But I don’t think you answered my original question.”

“Ah, right.” Eren nods a couple of times. “I’m afraid of conformity.”

“Conformity?” Mr. Smith repeats. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”

“It’s a legitimate fear,” he says. “Think about. When you’re a kid, you don’t really care about fitting in yet. You’re your own person doing your own thing. But once you get older, you start trying to find ways to be like everyone else. Maybe it’s a self-esteem issue. Who knows? But anyway, you’re always trying to fit in, to  _conform_. The thought of being like everyone else makes me sick.”

I snicker, shaking my head. Eren turns to look at me again.

“Sorry,” I say with another snort. “But I don’t think you have to worry about conformity.”

“Well, fear isn’t always rational,” Mr. Smith says, and I can tell he’s trying to diffuse the situation. It’s kinda useless, though. The air feels like it’s charged with electricity, and I can instantly tell that Eren and I are past the point of no return.

“Maybe not,” Eren concedes with a rapidly growing smirk. I grind my teeth together harshly. “With all due respect, though, I think you do.”

“Me?” I scowl at him. “What are you trying to say?”

“Sorry!” Eren smiles sweetly at me. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The bell rings suddenly, and I can’t help but gape at him as he stands up. He strides to the door without another word, and I can feel my anger rising. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, my face hot with embarrassment.

I look at Mr. Smith, who looks just as shocked as the rest of the class does. I force myself to my feet, grabbing my books from my desk. Reiner lingers by the door for me, and as I fall into step beside him he quietly clears his throat.

“You’re just gonna let him talk to you like that?” he asks, looking confused. I roll my eyes.

“What can I do?” I ask. “He’s not worth my time.”

“Right,” Reiner says slowly. “You look really pissed, though.”

“He fucking humiliated me in front of everyone,” I snap, finally reaching my locker. I turn the dial viciously and press my binders hard against my hip. “I think my anger’s justified.”

Reiner holds his hands up defensively.

“Hey man, I’m on your side,” he says. “Don’t let him get to you. Jaeger’s just a loser anyway.”

_“When you’re a loser you don’t care about what you look like.”_

_“You’re not a loser. Weird, yes. Loser? Nah. I know what a loser is, and that’s not what you are.”_

The memory causes me to pause in the middle of putting my books away. A strange feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Reiner looks at me weirdly for a few seconds. I nod my head, finally feeling the blood leave my face.

“Yeah,” I say hollowly. “Nothing but a fucking loser.”

* * *

By the time I get to ninth period, I feel pretty calm. We’re in the gym about to play a game of flag football. Which, as I like to say, is just the watered down version of football. I never cared much for tackling, so I’m grateful for the belts around our waists. God knows I get knocked around enough as it is.

I’ve pretty much forgotten about the incident in English until my eyes land on Eren. He’s standing off on the sidelines, his hands in the pockets of his pants. He looks kinda awkward. His eyes sweep the gym until they land on me.

He doesn’t smile and neither do I.

Somehow, a flare of anger wells of up inside of me. I brush it off and jog over to my team. Eren moves from his spot to the back of his team’s side, and the game begins. It goes on without incident, and before I know it we’re back in the locker room.

I grab my clothes to go change in the stall, but then I notice Eren’s staring at me. I think back to his morning, and the anger I had felt earlier comes back full force.

Suddenly, all I’m seeing is red. I stalk over to him. He gives me a wary look before I push him to the ground without thinking. He makes this gasping sound, like I’ve knocked the wind out of him or something, and I press against him harshly. His head makes a banging sound against the locker, and his eyes go wide for a few seconds.

I don’t know why I’m doing it.

Behind me, I can hear Reiner and a few of the guys laughing. I stand up slowly. Mr. Zacharius never comes inside of the locker room, so there’s no authority figure to catch me. Adrenaline pumps hot and heavy through my veins.

“Get up, bitch!” one of the guys goads from behind me.

“Yeah,” I add. “Unless you’re so weak that you can’t take one little push.”

I’ve never bullied a single person in my entire life. I didn’t want to be the stereotypical asshole jock.

But there I am, everything I promised I’d never be.

Eren continues to lie on the ground, an unreadable expression on his face. For a second I think he’s disappointed or something, but then he smirks.

“You know,” he begins slowly. “Bitch isn’t really an insult. Last I checked, I’m not a female dog. But hey, I can’t blame you. Football must have really messed with your head. Not that there was much brains to begin with, though.”

“Are you getting smart?” I ask. He rolls his eyes.

“Stop trying to show off,” he snaps, and stands up abruptly. He won’t even look at me as he storms off.

“Aw, is someone gonna go cry now?” Reiner grabs Eren roughly by the arm. “We’re not done with you, _bitch_.”

Suddenly, Eren twists Reiner’s arm behind his back. Franz, who had been merely watching and staying silent, winces. We all listen as a sickening pop goes through the air. Reiner crumples down to the ground on his knees, screaming in agony.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” I push him away from Reiner and stand in front of him protectively. Eren looks at Reiner, who’s writhing in pain.

“Who’s the bitch now?” he mutters, almost too low for me to hear, and leaves the locker room. The door slams shut loudly behind him.

I jump at the jarring sound.

“I’ll go get Mr. Zacharias!” Franz announces, clearly panicking, and runs out.

“Jesus Christ.” I kneel down beside Reiner.

“It fucking hurts!” he hisses, tears glazing his eyes. I swallow thickly.

“Fuck!” I run my fingers through my hair and wring my hands nervously. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“You guys are idiots.” Marco shakes his head, his eyes narrowed. “What's your problem, Levi?”

“ _My_  problem?” I say incredulously. “I’m not the one twisting people’s arms!”

“Maybe not, but you provoked him!” Marco stabs me square in the chest with his finger. “You tackled him out of nowhere! I think he had a right to fight back.”

“Whose side are you on?” I ask.

“Not yours, that’s for sure.” Marco sounds disgusted as he shakes his head again. He grabs up his stuff and storms towards the door. “I’m gonna go apologize to Eren.”

He takes off just as Mr. Zacharius enters the room.

“What happened in here?” he asks. Mr. Zacharius doesn’t talk much, but it’s not hard to tell he’s pissed.

Everyone looks at me. I swallow roughly and struggle to come up with a lie.

“We were messing around,” I say, and I pray to God Franz hadn’t said anything about Eren. “I guess I got carried away.”

Mr. Zacharias looks like he doesn’t believe me. I force myself to retain eye contact before he sighs and nods.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s get you to the nurse.”

He helps Reiner up and leaves the locker room. The remaining guys hurry to get dressed while I stay rooted in my spot. Franz squeezes my shoulder to get my attention. Thomas is looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Why did you lie?” he asks. Franz fidgets nervously beside me.

To be honest, I’m not sure. I should have told the truth. But for some reason, I found myself not wanting Eren to get into trouble because of me. It made no sense, considering how I was the one who had hit him. Or maybe I’m just scared to get in trouble.

“It would be too much work if I didn’t,” I say with a shrug. “We’d get called down to the office and all of that.”

Thomas and Franz exchange dubious glances. I pretend not to notice.

“Whatever you say, Captain,” Franz says, and that’s the last time we talk about it.


	3. Three: Eren

3:17 pm, my bedroom. I’m curled into a tiny ball, half of my face pressed into my pillow. A chill passes over my body, and I pull the blankets around me higher. My little cocoon is a little stifling, so I stick my head out more and exhale slowly.

I can hear Mom talking to someone downstairs, though I can’t really make out the other person’s voice. I assume it’s Ms. Rogers, our neighbor, and brush it off. She’s one of the nurses that works with my dad, and she used to babysit me when I was a kid. She treats me like I’m fragile, always choosing her words carefully. She never talks about Mikasa around me, but then again no one does. Not anymore, at least.

I roll onto my back and stretch my body out. My skin feels tight for some reason, like it will split if I stretch too far. I try to reach the foot of the bed with my left foot, just to see, but before I can stretch out fully there’s a few rapid knocks on my door.

I sit up. No one knocks on my door unless they’re not a regular visitor.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and walk over to the door. I’m still in the clothes I wore to school, jeans and a sweatshirt, and my hair’s a wild mess.

I twist the doorknob and blink in surprise. Marco Bott looks extremely out of place in my house. People make the joke that he’s kind of Jesus because he’s that pure. It’s gotta be illegal to be such a nice person, but Marco doesn’t seem to know that.

“Whoa.” I smirk and lean against the doorway. “Did you come to remind me of my sins or something?”

Marco doesn’t seem to find the joke funny, and now that I think about it, neither do I. The smirk slips off of my face and I stand up straighter.

“Sorry,” I say. “Force of a habit. You know, that whole freckled Jesus thing.”

“Right…” Marco shakes his head. “Eren, I’m really sorry about what Levi did earlier.”

The back of my head throbs. I dig my fingers into my palms and scoff.

“I didn’t realize you were his puppet,” I say offhandedly, walking into my room. I stand in front of my desk, absently organizing everything I have on it. “What is he, a coward?”

Marco clears his throat quietly.

“It’s not like that,” he says. “I’m not apologizing for him. I’m apologizing for myself.”

“You?” I pause, and slam the book I’m holding a little too hard onto the desk. Marco jumps at the sound. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.” I turn to look at him. He twists his fingers nervously, like he’s afraid I’m gonna sock him in the face.

I wouldn’t, for the record. Punching the incarnate of Jesus would be a sure way to hell. If there even  _is_  a hell, I mean.

“I’m not following,” I say honestly.

“I should have stopped it,” Marco says. “Everything got out of hand.”

“Right,” I lean back against the desk. “I suppose now is the time where you tell me that you guys were just messing around and that it’s not a big deal. And I bet you’re going to ask me to tell the principal that when I get called down, assuming that you told Mr. Zacharius what actually happened. But I find that hard to believe. You’re all cowards, through and through.”

A part of me feels bad that I’m taking all of my frustration out on poor, sweet Marco, but a guy who doesn’t have the balls to stand up against something pisses me off. The fact that he’s here apologizing should make me ecstatic, but I just feel angry.

Marco has an unreadable expression on his face. His lips are pursed but he doesn’t speak.

“So really,” I add, because I can’t resist having the last word, “ _I_  should be sorry for  _you_. I’m sorry that none of you have a mind of your own, I’m sorry that you guys think I’m an easy target, and most of all I’m sorry for thinking that any of you have the capability of not being complete and total assholes.”

The words leave me in a rush. It’s another one of those things where my mouth’s moving faster than my brain can comprehend, but for once I don’t want to cram my foot down my throat. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m not exactly talking about the football team as a whole.

I’m talking about Levi and Marco knows it. That unreadable expression melts away and suddenly he looks at me sympathetically. My chest feels tight, like my heart’s gonna explode, and I press my fingernails into the flesh of my palm. The pain helps ground me, and I do it harder and harder until I can’t even hear my heart anymore.

“Eren…” he begins, but I don’t want him to finish.

“You should go,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level. I feel vulnerable, horrifically bare before Marco’s searching gaze. His hand twitches by his side, as if he’s going to try and hold me, and a vile taste fills my mouth.

“Right.” Marco nods firmly. “I just...Eren, I’m serious. I’m so sorry.”

His words feel like sandpaper rubbing against my skin. I almost flinch, but I nod back and attempt to look composed. I can feel the strings holding me together snapping, breaking apart without any effort. I want nothing more than to keep myself together. But I can’t do that with him here.

“Please,” I say, and Marco moves jerkily to the door.

My hands are bleeding. I can feel the sting of my nails, and the pain hits me like a ton of bricks. I force my hands open and stare at them. Blood runs down in tiny little rivets and deep crescents are pressed into my palm.

“Shit,” I murmur. The sight of blood always makes me feel a little queasy, which is funny considering how much I bleed. I’ve always been a little reckless. I spent much of my childhood getting injured from anything that was potentially harmful.

I walk slowly to the bathroom and turn the sink on, rinsing my hands off. The bloody water swirls around the drain. I feel a little less lightheaded when the water runs clear. I grab gauze and ointment from the cabinet and set to work on dressing my wounds. The gauze seems a little much for my small little cuts, but I know that if I get angry I’ll probably clench my fists again. The last thing I want is to make my hands look even worse.

I slam the cabinet harder than intended and look at my reflection. I hardly recognize myself, and I struggle to remember the last time I did.

“Who are you, Jaeger?” I ask, and watch my mouth form the words.

I don’t have an answer and the boy in the mirror doesn’t either. He stares at me with empty green eyes. He flinches when I do and looking at him makes me feel sick to my stomach all over again. I drop my chin to my chest and take a slow, deep breath.

I have to get out of here.

I head back to my room and grab my phone. I tug the sleeves of my sweater down to cover my hands and race downstairs. I can hear Mom bustling around in the kitchen. The chances that she heard me come down are slim. Even if she had, I doubt she really cares where I go anymore.

I slip out of the house and don’t look back. As I walk, I dial the familiar number and hold the phone up to my ear.

“Are you free?” I ask once the line picks up, and I hear a small, affirmative sound on the other line.

* * *

Armin glances around the interior of the Burger King we’re seated at, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. We look like polar opposites. I’m still in my jeans and faded sweater while he’s wearing a three piece suit that makes him look a solid ten years older than he actually is.

It’s unnerving. I take a few gulps of my cola and try to catch his eye, but he’s too busy frowning at a puddle of mustard on the table next to ours.

“So,” he begins, his eyes finally locking with mine. “Why’d you call?”

“I’ve occupied too much of Jean’s time,” I say, drumming my fingers against the table. “Besides, it’s too hard to talk to him. He acts so damn patronizing lately.”

“I see.” Armin laces his fingers together and rests his hands on the table. “Maybe you need that, though.”

“I have my parents,” I say slowly. “I don’t need a second dad or whatever he’s trying to be.”

“He’s worried about you,” Armin says, his eyebrows pinching together again. I try to remember if I’ve ever seen him frown this much. “He called me the other day.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You keep in touch?” I ask. “I thought you didn’t care much for him.”

“That was you.” Armin almost laughs but then catches himself. I swallow thickly and stuff my straw back into my mouth. “Sure, I had my reservations about him at first. But then I talked to him and saw he wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“He seems to have that effect on people,” I say. I won’t admit it, but Jean has grown on me as well.

Armin nods. “So, as I was saying, he called me. He told me about that stunt you pulled the other day.”

“Which one?” I ask absently, looking at my half eaten hamburger. There’s ketchup in it. I hate ketchup. “There’s been many.”

“Eren,” Armin says softly. “I don’t think Mikasa-”

“Alright,” I say loudly, cutting him off. “I know, okay?”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“It’s helping me cope,” I say. “It’s not like I’m hurting anyone. I haven’t even gotten into that many fights lately.”

I think about the locker room incident and resist the urge to wince.

“There are better ways,” Armin says. “You can take up a hobby or-”

“I thought you were a lawyer, not a doctor.” I’m being an asshole. I should be a hell of a lot nicer to Armin, but it’s hard when he’s saying all these things I should listen to but don’t want to.

“What’s the real reason you called?” he asks gently. “It wasn’t because you were hungry.”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I just...I just wanted someone, okay?”

Armin’s eyes soften. I glance down at the table and refuse to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” I mutter. Armin presses his lips together and nods.

“I should head home,” he says. “Annie probably needs help with dinner.”

“Ah, right.” I drum my fingers against the table. “How far along is she?”

“Six months,” he says. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Yeah,” I say. “You excited? I mean, it’s like the third time, right?”

“Ecstatic. It could be the twentieth time and I’d still love every second of it.” He smiles for the first time and reaches across the table to ruffle my hair. “Call me if you need anything, or just stop by if you need some space or something. Our door’s always open.”

I think about it for a second. I couldn’t possibly do that. He’s pushing thirty, married with two kids and another on the way. He’s a lawyer and Annie teaches a boxing class at the gym. They’ve got jobs and kids and bills to pay. They don’t have time for me and all my little teenage problems. They’re grown-ups with grown-up problems... _real_  problems, I mean.

I don’t fit into the equation, no matter how much Armin tries to make it seem like I do. He can’t help me because he’s not my friend. He was Mikasa’s, and all he’s doing is trying to help the little brother that got left behind.

I feel nauseous. I push my tray of food away and ignore the concerned look Armin sends my way yet again.

“Of course,” I say hollowly, and my practiced smile comes onto my face with ease. There I am, pretending like I’m not falling apart. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

1:58 pm, underneath the bleachers. My face feels numb from being pressed against my knees, but I ignore it and curl into a smaller ball. I can hear the soccer game I’m supposed to be in continuing on behind me, but I ignore it. I close my eyes and listen as my classmates continue kicking the ball around, not even aware that they’re short a player.

But let’s be honest here. Who even gives a shit that I’m gone usually? I can’t even play soccer that well. They’re probably celebrating the loss of the deadweight on their team.

I pause and ponder that sentence for a second. Deadweight? Yeah, that’s me. I scowl and press my face further into the cradle of my arms. It’s one of  _those_  days. I hate them more than anything, but they’re like dark, deep scars that won’t ever go away. I’ve had bad days. Hell, everyone has. But these days take bad days and multiply them by a thousand.

I won’t cry, because I haven’t cried in a while, but sometimes they’re bad enough that I want to. Days like today are days when I question why I’m still breathing. I think about all the ways I could die, and I realize that no one would even give a shit. Apparently, according to the pamphlets in the guidance office, I’m depressed. Suicidal too, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I hate labels. Always have, always will. What’s the point of them, anyway? Are they to make sorting people easier? Are they meant to be malicious? Are they meant to help?

_Who fucking knows._

My trail of thought breaks off abruptly as I hear footsteps coming my way. I expect it to be Mr. Zacharius. He won’t say anything, as usual, but the dark look on his face will be enough to get me to my feet.

I’m already about to stand, but then my eyes meet stormy grey.

Mr. Zacharius doesn’t have grey eyes. I only know one person who does, and I can’t imagine what he wants from me  _now_.

“What the fuck do you want?” I’m defensive, rightfully so, and downright annoyed at the innocent way he holds up his hands.

“Relax, Eren.” Levi glances down at me. “What crawled up your ass? I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, gee,” I say. “I’m sorry, I was just expecting you to hit me again. You seem fond of unprovoked attacks on innocent, unsuspecting classmates.”

“Cut the shit.” Levi’s eyes narrowed sharply. “You’re not innocent.”

“I didn’t do shit to you,” I say, but then I stop myself. I almost want to laugh. “Oh my God. Are your panties in a twist because of what I said in English yesterday?”

Levi rolls his eyes and looks off to the side.

_Bingo._

“Look, Eren.” Levi’s sharp gaze cuts back to me. “I was pissed off and you were there. I acted without thinking. Sorry.”

I lean back on my hands, raising my eyebrows.

“Marco talked to you.”

“So fucking what?” he says. He steps closer to me threateningly, but I only gaze up at him coolly. “I’m not a fucking coward.”

“Right,” I say.

“I’m  _not_ ,” he stresses. My eyes widen a bit.

“Alright, Jesus Christ.” I roll my eyes. “You’re not a coward, you’re just pathetic. Happy?”

He’s on me in seconds, roughly gripping the collar of my shirt between his clenched fists. I ignore how close our faces are and smirk.

“Did I hit a nerve?” I ask gleefully.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls. “I really was coming to apologize, but if you’re going to be a jackass then fuck it.”

“Get off of me,” I say lowly.

Levi looks into my eyes unflinchingly before releasing me. I refuse to let him know that my heart is pounding like a drum in my ears. I lean back against the bleachers and look at him.

“How’d you know I was here?” I ask.

“I saw you walk back here,” he says, looking a little less angry.

“Ooh. What are you, stalking me?”

“Stalking you would be if I followed you home. You’re not worth the time and effort for that,” he spits.

Wow. It’s hard to believe this is the same guy who tried to convince me I’m not a loser.

“Well sorry,” I say, because I don’t know what else I should say. “We’ve made amends. Please leave.”

“Fuck that.” He looks at the ground for a few seconds before gingerly sitting down. “The fuck are you back here for anyway?”

“Does it matter?” I drawl. “Don’t act like you give a shit. Shouldn’t you be dicking around with your friends?”

“They can manage without me,” he says.

“Sure doesn’t seem that way,” I say. “Are you always like this?”

“Dunno. You tell me.”

“That makes no fucking sense.”

“ _You_  don’t make sense,” he mutters. I open my mouth to argue but decide against it. Levi’s scowling at the ground like it did something to personally offend him.

I press my lips together tightly and look away.

“Okay, you’re doing this to get under my skin.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, consider your job done.” I exhale slowly. “Seriously, get the hell away from me.”

“Take a chill pill, Eren.” He rolls his neck around on his shoulders. “I just want to sit here, okay?”

I try to tell him that there are a billion other places for him to sit, preferably far away from me, but my mouth won’t open.

“Levi-”

“Can I be honest here?” Levi asks. I blink at him before nodding reluctantly.

“I didn’t realize we were gonna spill our sorrows here. I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Oh my-just shut the fuck up for like ten seconds, alright?” he sounds annoyed. I raise my eyebrows.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“My mother’s dead.”

“Well shit,” I say. “That got depressing real fast.”

“You went there,” he says, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.

I shut up.

“Right. Sorry, man. Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he says gruffly. He runs his fingers through his hair and leans back on his hands. “Marco told me what you said.”

“I figured,” I say. “I can’t imagine why else you’d be here. I thought we already established that you talked, though?”

“I know,” Levi sighs softly. “I just...shit, man. You had a good fucking point, alright? Are you happy?”

“Happy?” I echo. “I’m not a douchebag. That wouldn’t make me happy.”

“Right, of course not,” he says with a derisive snort. “Yeah, we’re all cowards. I know I said I wasn’t but...look, people do shitty things, alright? I’m not exempt from that, and I don’t think anyone really is. I know there’s the whole thing about Marco being Jesus or whatever, but even he freezes up sometimes. People can’t always be heroes. Someone has to be the bad guy.”

I stare at him for a few seconds before I look away. All I can see before me is the perfect, practically untouched field.

“Not everyone’s like that,” I argue. “Yeah, people aren’t perfect. Having imperfections doesn’t equate to being an asshole. I don’t think there’s a connection between the two.”

“Whatever, man.” He shrugs. “Believe what you want but-”

He cuts himself off. I look at him curiously, but he stands up abruptly.

“What-”

“Whistle,” he says, and not even a second later Mr. Zacharius blows the whistle. He brushes the hair away from his face again and smirks at me. “Nice chat, Jaeger. See you.”

I almost call him back, but I bite my tongue to stop myself. I sit behind the bleachers until Levi becomes nothing but a tiny speck in the crowd. I force myself to stand, my legs protesting with the movement.

I walk to the locker room in a daze. I’m one of the last guys in, and by the looks of it everyone else had gone home. I dress quickly and walk out into the hallway. I weave through the crowd, feeling almost as if I’m not in my body.

The walk home is spent blasting music from my phone. My ears have a dull ache in them, but I crank the volume louder and block out the pain. Maybe if I do this enough, I won’t hear anything. Maybe I won’t feel anything.

Maybe...maybe I’ll go numb.

It’s a tantalizing possibility. Not being able to feel anything sounds like a dream. I’m so focused on not feeling or hearing that I don’t realize I’ve reached my house until I standing at the end of the driveway. As usual, my parents aren’t home. But there’s a black car in the driveway, and my eyebrows pinch together tightly.

I walk slowly to the house and try the knob. The door’s unlocked, so I walk in and kick my shoes off.

Jean pokes his head out from the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I drawl. “Why are you here?”

He rubs the back of his neck.

“Boss told me to take some time off,” he says.

“You got fired?” I say, and Jean flinches.

“No,” he insists harshly. “It’s time off, okay? I’m sorting some things out.”

I throw myself down onto the couch. “Sounds like bullshit, but whatever man.”

“Watch it there,” Jean says threateningly, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s brandishing a spatula as a weapon. “Your mom called and I ended up telling her. She told me to stay here until I get back onto my feet.”

I don’t know why, but suddenly I feel angry. I don’t have much against Jean. He’s a little too nosy for his own good and sometimes he really pisses me off, but we’ve been pretty much on good terms. But he's the last reminder of my sister after my parents stripped our house of her existence. That's what pisses me off the most, but I'd never say that. I'm not that much of an asshole.

“Where are you sleeping, then?” I ask, and I don’t know why. We both know where he’s going to sleep, and a dark cloud seems to settle over the room. “Never mind, forget it.”

A hissing sound comes the kitchen, like oil has pitched onto the stovetop or something, and Jean curses under his breath. There’s the clattering of pots and then the sound of water running. It goes quiet, and he emerges from the kitchen looking a little flustered.

“Are you okay, Eren?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say. I’m not. I never am, and he knows that. “You?”

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly.

I’m not the only liar.

* * *

6:39 pm, ten minutes into dinner. Mom and Dad are talking to Jean about politics or the weather or  _something_. I had stopped listen right around when the green beans finished cooking. It’s some sort of adult conversation, the kind that kids are expected to tune out and ignore. Or maybe it’s not, and no one wants me to participate in predicting whether we’ll have an early snowstorm or something.

I don’t care either way. I push my green beans around, watching as oil smears across the plate. Dad had ended up cooking after Jean’s failed attempt. He tends to be a little heavy-handed when it comes to oils and things of that nature, hence the burnt, greasy mess on my plate.

I watch as Jean takes a bite, swallows, and casually takes three sips of his water to hide the frown on his face. I bite my lip to hide my grin and spear a green bean onto my fork, slowly lifting it to my mouth. I stare at it for a few seconds before deciding against it and setting my fork down.

Mom looks up at me, cutting delicately into her baked tilapia.

“Eren?” she asks.

I shove away from the table.

“I’m gonna go to bed early,” I say. She, Dad, and Jean all give me skeptical looks, and I realize they’re wondering what time I’m gonna sneak out. “Seriously. Had a long day and all that shit.”

Dad sighs at the cuss word and I chew the inside of my cheek.

“Go.” He waves me off without another glance.

I nod, replaying the dismissive word more than I should in my head.

_Go._

It’s a simple word. Two innocent little letters put together to form a command, or a suggestion, or just another word people say mindlessly. I’d give anything to just  _go_. Mikasa and I were supposed to just  _go_ , back when Mom and Dad were ten seconds away from signing divorce papers, but things changed.

I think that’s what happens when people go. Things change, and everyone left behind has to pick up the pieces. Or people leave the pieces where they are and pretend like nothing’s wrong.

I’m halfway up the stairs, but suddenly it’s like every muscle in my body decided to say fuck it and stop working. I’m down on my knees in seconds, shaking like a fucking leaf. I press a hand firmly against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut as if cutting off my vision will help.

It doesn’t, for the record, but I don’t know what to do. I never know what to do, especially now that the one person who had shit figured out is gone because some sick bastard decided it was time for her to go.

...

_Fuck._


	4. Four: Levi

I pull up into the empty parking lot and take the keys out of the ignition. The car is too hot and my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, taking a few deep breaths. My palms are sweating, so I rub them harshly against my jeans.

“Fuck.” I flip the visor down and look at my reflection. I look paler than usual and there are bags underneath my eyes from yet another sleepless night.

I slam the visor back up and scream as loud as I can. My throat burns but I keep screaming, smacking my hands against the steering wheel. My voice begins to die out and I let my head drop down, resting it against my folded hands. My knuckles are digging into my forehead, so I turn so that I’m staring out of the window.

It’s pouring outside. Endless sheets of rain hit the ground, and I can hear the sound of raindrops hitting the roof of my car. I have three minutes to get to first period before I’m late, but I can’t even move.

I see someone walking to the main entrance, and I’m out of my car before I can process what I’m doing.

“Eren!” My throat feels raw and I regret yelling for him almost instantly.

He stops and turns towards me. He’s just wearing a thin looking shirt that’s getting wetter and wetter by the second. I can feel my hair getting damp. I don’t bother to pull the hood of my sweatshirt up as I approach him.

“What do you want?” He sounds suspicious, and I suppose I can’t blame him.

“What?” I ask. Eren looks irritated now.

“You called. What do you want?”

I run my fingers through my hair and look at him. His eyebrows are furrowed and he keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot. I watch him for a few moments before I clear my throat softly.

“I...you’re gonna get sick like that,” I say.

“Well you’re holding me back.” He folds his arms over his chest and looks me dead in the eye. “If you’re done wasting my time, I should get going-”

I grab onto his arm.

“Not yet,” I say hoarsely.

“What do you want from me?” he demands again.

I wish I knew. I don’t know why I’m holding onto him like he’s gonna disappear any second. I shouldn’t even be talking to him, but I can’t find it in myself to walk away.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

He uncrosses his arms. I continue holding on to him, unintentionally tightening my grip on him. He reaches up and pries my fingers off. His hands are warm to the touch, a sharp contrast to the cold air around us.

He begins to walk towards my car. I follow after him silently. We sit inside, the heater cranked up at high as it’ll go. He shivers beside me and I grab my jacket from the back seat and throw it at him. He doesn’t move to put it on.

“This is weird,” he says.

“You never cut before?” I ask.

“I have. I just never stuck around in the parking lot.”

Silence falls between us again. I shift my head and feel a few drops of water roll down my neck. I grip the steering wheel between my hands.

“I didn’t drive for four months,” I say. I don’t know why I’m telling him. “I couldn’t fucking do it.”

“I don’t drive at all,” Eren whispers. I look over at him.

“Never?” I ask.

“Never,” he says. He’s not looking at me as he kicks his feet up onto the dashboard and folds his hands over his stomach.

If he was anyone else, I would have knocked his legs down and cursed him out. Instead, I sit there silently and chew the inside of my cheek.

“Well shit. Why?”

Eren leans his head against the window. He’s silent for a few seconds, and then he clears his throat.

“Cars, man.” He snorts like it’s somehow supposed to be funny, but I guess I missed the joke.

“Uh…” I’m not sure how to respond. Eren makes a humming sound.

“It’s a long story. I would tell you, but I’d have to like you to do that.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended at that or not,” I mutter. “And what’s with you?”

“What, my attitude?” Eren snorts again. “Sorry. Coping mechanism. Not exactly healthy but oh well.”

I swallow harshly.

“So...you’re afraid of cars.”

“Jesus _Christ_.” He turns to me, his eyes glaring into mine. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under right about now. “Why are we still talking about this?”

“Well, why won’t you answer the question?” I ask. Eren rolls his eyes.

“You’re so fucking irritating-”

“Watch it asshole-”

“I’m not fucking afraid,” Eren cuts me off swiftly and folds his arms over his chest. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. I press my lips together tightly and try to calm myself down.

“Sorry,” I say.

Eren drums his fingers against his arms.  “Yeah, alright.”

I run my fingers through my hair and try to think of a way to salvage whatever this is. I come up empty and listen as Eren shifts in his seat.

“Look, Eren,” I start, and I figure that if I just start spewing out shit it’ll make things a little better.

“Yeah?”

“I know I’ve fucked up. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

Eren watches me for a few seconds before he exhales slowly.

“Make it up to me,” he echoes. “Did Marco put you up to this?”

“That’s not it,” I say impatiently. Eren scoffs.

“He did before, didn’t he?” He points out.

“Well yeah.” I roll my eyes. “But this is coming from me.”

“Uh-huh, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“Alright, Jesus.”

Silence falls between us again. I put the car into gear and pull out of the parking lot.

“Whoa there!” Eren suddenly grabs onto the side of the seat. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going out.”

“ _Where?”_

“I’m making it up to you,” I mutter.

“Please don’t.”

“We’re going on an adventure.” I stop at a red light and glance over at him. “Are you scared or something?”

“No.” Eren relaxes and puts his seatbelt on. “Put your fucking seatbelt on.”

“Chill.” I roll my eyes but do as he says.

“I don’t want to go on an adventure with you, by the way. I'm pretty sure this counts as kidnapping.”

“I don’t want your dirty ass feet on my dashboard but you don’t see me complaining. And who the hell would want to kidnap _you_?”

Eren looks at his feet and then back at me.

“Rude." He pauses. "Clean freak?”

“No,” I mutter, suddenly self-conscious, and Eren laughs. I look at him quickly.

I’ve never heard him laugh. It’s nothing special. I’m not one of those people who can find all the unique little things about others. But for some reason, Eren’s laugh sounds like it’s something that I won’t ever forget. It’s a weird thought, and I squash it dead before it turns into something even more confusing. I put the radio on to distract myself and focus on the road.

Eren looks at me for a few seconds, slightly tilting his head to the side. I swallow harshly and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. It feels foreign beneath my hands, like it’s not supposed to be there, but I won’t let go of it.

Eren is still gripping the side of his seat harshly.

“Relax,” I say. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Right,” he says thinly, and I’m kind of grateful that some of his snark has worn off. “If we crash, I’m suing.”

“Okay, sure.” I snort and crank the music up a little higher. “I’ll hold you to that.”

We end up at this little Chinese restaurant. It’s pretty cheap and the food tastes better than McDonald’s, so it’s my place of choice for when I need a quick bite. The lady behind the counter smiles when she sees me walk in. I come here so often that I should know her name, but it’s never crossed my mind to ask.

We order our food and sit at a table in the corner when we get it. Eren doesn’t touch his right away. I dig in instantly, only looking up when I notice he’s frozen before me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask around a mouthful of rice.

“Gross,” he mutters, and slowly begins to eat.

I roll my eyes and take another bite. I take a few sips of Pepsi and sigh softly.

“Alright, seriously. What crawled up your ass?”

Eren rolls his eyes at me and says nothing at first. I stare at him until he huffs and looks down.

“I’m gonna get killed when I get home,” he says.

“For cutting?”

“Yeah, I kinda promised I’d stop doing reckless shit.” He drums his fingers against the table. “Somehow my parents always know.”

“Must be nice,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Huh?” Eren asks. I shrug.

“People are worried about where you are and what you’re doing.” I take another bite. “It must be nice.”

Eren snorts.

“I’m sure people are worried about you,” he says. “Our school would fall apart without our little star player.”

“Do you always talk shit about everything?”

“I told you, it’s a coping mechanism.”

“Right,” I drawl.

Eren rests his chin on his hand and leans forward, staring at me. I glance up at him before looking away, feeling a tad bit self-conscious. It’s like he’s picking me apart bit by bit.

“Thanks,” he says suddenly. I stare at him.

“Uh...for what?” I shake my head. “I kinda forced you.”

“Yeah, you’ll pay for that later.” He grins devilishly at me before clearing his throat. “Look, it was...nice. I haven’t done something like this in a while. Usually I sneak into my parent’s liquor and waste my nights away.”

“Never pegged you as a drinker,” I mutter slowly. I shrug. “It’s cool. I guess it was kinda nice for me too.”

It’s a little frightening how honest I’m being, but it’s not like I can take the words back. Eren’s eyebrows raise a fraction on his forehead before his expression relaxes.

“No expectations, right?” he murmurs.

“No expectations,” I repeat softly.

* * *

It’s the last five minutes of English. My binders are in a neat stack on my desk and I’m waiting impatiently for the bell to ring. Reiner’s sitting in the empty seat beside me chattering on about something to do with this girl in his calculus class. I’m too disinterested to bother giving him a verbal response, so I settle for little nods and forced grins to make him feel like I give a shit.

When the bell goes off, Reiner books it out of class. I think he’s going to meet that girl, but even if I cared I don’t think I would’ve said anything. I gather my things slowly and watch as Eren continues to slump over his desk, blissfully unaware of how it’s time to switch classes.

I close my hand into a fist and bump it against the back of his head. He lifts his head up and rubs at his eyes.

“Class is over,” I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow.

“You woke me up?”

“Someone probably has that seat this period,” I say. “I’m trying to save you from getting your ass kicked.”

Eren snorts and stands up, stretching his arms so widely that he almost hits me. I roll my eyes and slide away from him.

“I think we already established I can handle myself.” He smiles toothily at me. “How’s Reiner’s arm, by the way?”

“Okay, I guess.” I shrug. “He uses it as a sympathy card.”

Eren snorts and brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Wow. How nice.”

I shrug again. A small, distant part of my mind is screaming at me to get the fuck away from him right now. We’re not friends by any means, but somehow it’s nice to talk with someone who doesn’t expect me to talk about stupid, trivial things.

Hell, I finally found someone who doesn’t expect a  _conversation._

We walk in comfortable silence until Eren suddenly stops in front of a classroom. I realize that it’s his class. I’m prepared to just continue walking, but then he gives me this unreadable look and I can’t move away yet. His mouth opens slightly, like he’s gonna say something, but then he doesn’t.

I don’t know what he wants  _me_ to say. I’m starting to feel a little awkward. My chest is starting to get that tight feeling, and my lungs feel like they’re not taking in enough air. The sounds of the hall begin to fade behind me, and all I can hear is this pressing silence around me. It’s a little freaky, and I clear my throat loudly. The sound comes rushing back and I take a few steps back.

“Try not to fuck anybody up,” I say, and Eren raises an eyebrow slowly.

“Yeah, okay. Try not to be a jackass.” He’s suddenly smiling, but that strange look in his eyes is back. He does that a lot. Smile, I mean. He smiles even when it’s obvious it’s the last thing he wants to do. I don’t even know him well and I’ve noticed it.

I nod curtly and turn around, heading to my class. When I’m halfway down the hall, the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I smile when I don’t want to either, and I’m always wondering if people notice.

The bell startles me into moving again. I’m already late to my forensics class, and Ms. Zoe makes a remark that's part joke and part disappointment. I take it in stride and offer my own witty response, and when I slide into the seat in between Marco and Franz I feel like I can breathe again.

* * *

On Saturday, I get a call from Reiner informing me that next week Bertolt’s family will be out of town.

Bertolt is this lanky, tall, awkward guy on the team. He’s a benchwarmer and he’s filled in for Marco once in the four years he’s been playing football. He’s kind of hard to have a conversation with because he always looks like he’s planning a method of escape when you’re talking to him. The guys and I give him shit about it, all in jest of course, but I try not to do it as much. I’m pretty much the same way after all.

The significance of Bertolt’s family going away is that he’s rich as hell. He could easily be one of those prep school kids who goes to lacrosse practice and drinks out of cups made of pure gold (which would actually be tacky, but I’m not loaded so I wouldn’t know of refined taste anyway). Bertolt’s pretty humble for a guy who’s got his own personal chauffeur, chef, pool boy and Lord knows what else, and maybe the guys on the team kind take advantage of his passive nature.

So, of course, next week there’s gonna be a huge party. I don’t understand how people are so fascinated with the idea of parties. To me, they’re nothing but a huge waste of time, especially the ones that people throw just for the hell of it. But Bertolt’s birthday is next week, and I’m pretty sure Reiner’s just using that as an excuse to get drunk in the presence of half the student body. Bertolt’s probably only letting him do so since he and Reiner have been joined at the hip since they were toddlers. I can’t imagine Bertolt, who sweats profusely at the idea of someone approaching him, wanting to have a large party.

What I, or Bertolt, for that matter, think isn’t important. This party is happening no matter what, and since the whole team’s going I’m expected to as well. Reiner goes into some vague details that I hardly pay attention to. The only thing that’ll be different this time around is the addition of birthday cake to our usual alcohol/shitty food/loud music combo.

Reiner quickly adds that I can invite whoever I want provided they don’t go to Trost. Trost is one of our biggest rival teams. They’re nothing but a bunch of cocky fuckers who think they’re the best thing after sliced bread.

I tell him that I won’t and hang up. Once upon a time, I would’ve asked Isabel and Farlan to come. But considering how my last conversation with Isabel didn’t go that well and that Farlan supports her decisions a hundred and fifty percent, inviting them is like asking to get socked in the face.

I think of Eren and kill the thought before it can blossom into something totally weird that I won’t be able to stop. It’s not like we’re friends. I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to him. I ignored him since freshman year (even though we’ve had several classes together since then), pushed his head into a locker, and forced him to cut class with me in some misguided attempt to make up to him for being a total dick.

I think of Eren twisting Reiner’s arm behind him and wince. I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of that. I chew the inside of my cheek and lounge back on my bed. I’ve got an alternative rock station playing from my computer and my unfinished homework is spread out across the sheets. I should get started but I can’t even think of moving at this point.

I try to convince myself that I don’t owe Eren Jaeger shit, but then I remember how he looked at me when he was lying on the floor, listening as my friends spewed some random shit at him just to make him feel like we were above him.

“Fuck,” I whisper, and press my hands over my face.

I shouldn’t spend this much time thinking about a kid I hardly know. Things were easier before I talked to him, back when we were just two kids out on the streets at an ungodly hour. Now we had...well, we had  _something._ There isn’t exactly a name I can put to it. The only thing I'm sure of is that Chinese food can't fix shit like this.

I’m up before I know it. Kenny’s not home and I assume he's probably out with his coworkers or whatever. He had told me he’d be home later than usual, but it’s not like it matters to me. Kenny does what he wants and I do whatever I want. I’m only supposed to be there when he decides that I’d look nice with another bruise the size of his fist on me.

I slam the lid of my laptop shut and the music cuts off after a few minutes. I grab my jacket and throw it on. I stand in front of my nightstand, deciding if I should take my keys or not. I had been fine this morning, but then again I had been too distracted with how much I hated my life to really focus on the fact that I was driving.

I grab the keys with no intention of taking my car and go downstairs. It makes me feel like I'm making progress, though, so I keep them in my jacket pocket. It occurs to me that I have no idea where Eren Jaeger lives, but I  _do_ know where Historia lives. She and Eren used to be friends, and even though I don’t see them hanging around anymore I’m sure she remembers.

Historia lives three blocks away from me. Reiner lives around there too, which is the only reason I know where her house is. He had the biggest crush on her freshman year, but then he found out she was already dating this girl named Ymir from Trost. And since Reiner hates Trost, he’d quickly given up on her.

I almost smile at the memory. It had been hilarious to watch Reiner make a fool out of himself as he tried to get her attention. It had been painfully obvious to all of us that she was uninterested, but Reiner was a persistent bastard.

By the time I get to Historia’s house, my face is flushed and I can’t really feel my fingers. It’s a little too cold to just be wearing my varsity jacket, but I hadn’t really thought about the temperature before I left.

I knock on her door and wait for her to open it. I’m half expecting one of her parents, and I prepare myself to not sound like a total douchebag. Luckily for me, Historia herself appears before me. She looks surprised and I can’t say that I can blame her. I’ve never said more than few words to her.

“Levi?” she asks, and she glances from me to the street and back at me. “Um...what are you doing here?”

“You used to be friends with Eren, right?” She looks blankly back at me, and I run my fingers through my hair. “Eren Jaeger? You know, brown hair, green eyes-”

“I know who he is,” Historia cuts me off with a tight smile on her face. “Why are you asking me about him?”

“I need to know where he lives,” I say, and when Historia gives me this weirded out look I realize how creepy that sounds. “I’ve gotta ask him something.”

Historia purses her lips.

“I heard about that locker room incident,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously. “You’re not going to do anything, are you?”

To be honest, I feel a little offended that she thinks I would. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and lightly bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a heated retort that would get the door slammed in my face.

“I just have to talk to him,” I tell her, trying to sound as nice as possible. “I swear to God I’m not gonna sock him in the face or something.”

Historia nods slightly.

“He lives about five blocks from here. When you get to the end of the street make a left and keep going straight down. It’s a big white house with a fence around it and a swing. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I say, shooting her a smile. “Have a nice-”

“Levi…” She interrupts me again, though this time her face looks sad and her voice is so quiet I almost have to strain to hear it.

“Yeah?”

“Tell him I’m sorry,” she says. “He probably won’t care, but I…”

She trails off. I wait for her to finish but she never does.

“Alright,” I say. “I’ll tell him.”

She smiles gratefully and tells me to have a good night. The door clicks shut softly, and I stand on her porch for a few more seconds before I shake my head and shove my hands into my pockets.

I walk up to the end of the street and turn left. I focus on the sound of passing cars and keep my head down until I realize I’m supposed to be looking for Eren’s house. I force myself to walk with my head held up.

After about ten minutes, I finally see the house. It’s plain white, a stark contrast to the green and red house it’s sandwiched between. There’s a tire swing hanging from the huge tree out front and a black car in the driveway. I can see the lights are on, so hopefully he’s home.

I walk up the stairs slowly, with every step feeling like I’ve had cinder blocks tied to my feet. My half-frozen hand feels boneless as I rap on his door with my knuckles. I can faintly hear the murmur of a television in the background, and then the door is unlocked and a man is standing before me.

I don’t think he’s Eren’s dad just because he looks a little young to have a seventeen year old kid, but I’ve never even met his dad anyway. I clear my throat quietly and look at the man’s face.

“Hello,” he says, smiling lightly. “Are you one of Eren’s friends?”

My mind goes blank. I struggle to think of a response, but just as I’m about to the door opens up wider.

Eren stands on the other side, dressed in sweatpants and a thin looking tee shirt. His eyebrows are slightly raised.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” the man says quietly, looking between me and Eren. He squeezes Eren’s shoulder briefly before he’s out of sight.

Eren turns to look at him before he steps outside, closing the door behind him. I scoff quietly, smirking.

“Not gonna invite me in?”

“Not with that nosy fucker inside, no,” he says.

“Better hope your dad doesn’t hear that,” I say. Eren snickers.

“Oh please. He’s not my dad, by the way.” He rolls his eyes. “He’s my brother-in-law.”

“Ah,” I say.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re starting to get a little obsessed with me.” Eren grins suddenly. “You’ve been seeking me out a lot lately. Got a confession for me?”

“Fuck off,” I say crossly. “I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…?” Eren looks genuinely curious as he leans back against the door. “You’re not about to get all deep and personal on me, are you?”

“God no,” I say with a scoff. “Look, one of the guys on the team’s having a birthday party next week. I got the go ahead to invite anyone I want so…”

“Well fuck me.” Eren’s eyebrows rise up again. “Are you inviting me or something?”

“Pretty much,” I say with shrug. “I don’t care if you come or not. Just figured I owed you after pulling that shit on you.”

“I thought we already got all the making up out of the way,” Eren says. “We’re good.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “But...well, it’s like you said. There’s no expectations with you. You don’t see me as some football star. I’m just me. It’s refreshing, honestly.”

“You can’t even stand me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I respond. “If I hated your guts, I’d be insulting the shit outta you right about now. I can tolerate you.”

Eren snorts.

“I can’t believe people think you’re attractive,” he says. “Honest to God, I thought I wanted to do you until you opened your mouth.”

My jaw drops slightly at his casual confession before I grin.

“Well would you look at that. Apparently  _you’re_ the one who has the hots for  _me.”_

“Get over yourself, Blondie. It’s just because half the school idolizes your subpar ass.”

I resist the urge to wince because  _wow_ , huge blow to my ego.

“Ooh, all bent outta shape because I know your secret?”

“Fuck off, asshole.” Eren shoves me while I continue to laugh at the pissed look on his face.

“So what do you say?” I ask once I’ve finally got my shit together. “You in?”

Eren looks at me thoughtfully, arms folded over his chest.

“You’re not worried about potentially committing social suicide?” he asks. I scoff.

“No way. I march to the beat of my own drum anyway.”

Eren grins. “None of that conformity bullshit for you, right?”

I know he’s talking about that English thing.

“For fuck’s sake, let it go Jaeger.”

“Alright, alright,” he says as he smirks and grabs the handle of the door, opening it slowly. “I’ll go.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come pick you up.”

“Cool,” Eren says, and then his eyebrows furrow. “Oh, by the way, how did you know where I live?”

I think about Historia’s words. Whatever happened between them must’ve been pretty shitty for them to stop talking. They always seemed like they were damn near inseparable. I have no idea what will happen if I bring her up. I decide to keep her out of it and grin.

“I’m a resourceful guy,” I say, and Eren scoffs.

“Wow, resourceful and persistent. I like you less and less as time goes on.”

“Perfect.” I smirk at him and turn around, going down the steps. “You better look damn good next week, Jaeger. If I’m gonna commit social suicide you have to be worth it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says as he snorts.

I can’t see his face, but something tells me that he’s smiling.


	5. Five: Eren

9:17 pm, my bedroom. School had been rather uneventful, but the hallways were filled with everyone talking about the same thing.

And that thing happens to be Bertolt Hoover’s party.

Bertolt by himself isn’t that impressive. Trust me, I have nothing against the guy. It’s just that he’s a bench warmer and the only reason people remember him is because he looks like he’s gonna have a panic attack whenever anyone talks to him. Dude’s got a serious case of social anxiety or whatever, but he’s alright I guess. His best friend is Reiner, though, so I’m not sure how nice he can be.

The only impressive thing about Bertolt is that he lives in this huge fucking mansion with no neighbors on either side of him. His parents are always traveling and he’s usually left alone with his maids and butlers and whatever kind of hired help rich people have.

So, since he’s loaded and has that huge house, people always bust a nut when he announces he’s gonna have a party. Honestly, anyone with half a brain knows that Reiner’s the mastermind behind each and every single one of said parties. But there’s free drinks, plenty of sex, and the possibility of drugs. People could care less whose idea it is. They could also care less about how he’s turning eighteen, but it’s not like I’m expecting people to show up with birthday cards and well wishes for his journey to adulthood.

Plenty of Bertolt’s parties have popped up during my high school career, starting as early as the middle of freshman year. I never went though, mostly because the group I hung out with then wasn’t into the whole getting drunk and fucking random strangers thing. To be honest, I prefer to drink alone so that I don’t get judged when I feel sorry for myself. But sometimes you just need to let go and grind against people who hate your guts but are too drunk to realize it’s you.

So yeah, when Levi invited me my first thought was _hell fucking no_. There’s no way he’d leave there with his beloved reputation intact. But then I thought about it and realized that if Bertolt’s parties are really as wild as they sound, then there’s at least a ninety percent chance we won’t run into each other until it’s time to leave. Ultimately, the promise of free drinks and possibly harmlessly flirting with whoever is interested had me hook, line, and sinker.

...Okay, so maybe it didn’t take much convincing. Sue me.

I make my way to the corner store at the end of the street, the 24-hour one with all the ugly neon signs outside. The windows look a little grimy and it’s obvious the owner stopped caring about its appearance a long time ago, but it’s better than driving half a mile just to get a jug of milk.

I browse through the aisles before I find what I’m looking for. I grab it and walk to the counter, where the cashier looks like she’d rather be at home sleeping than working. I don’t blame her. I pay quickly and take my things before I head back home.

I’m surprised to see Levi standing at the end of my driveway, arms crossed. His varsity jacket is pulled tight against his arms, and I look away before something gross and perverted enters my mind. Dude's got some nice-ass biceps, but I'm not gonna fucking admit that.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Oh.” He lifts his head and I realize that his eyes were closed. “I wasn’t sure if I should go and ring the doorbell.”

I snort.

“What, you’ve never picked up someone before?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Kinda hard to believe a hunk like you never had a date.”

“Why are you always so fucking condescending?” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been on dates, dickhead.”

“Yeah, but did they end well?”

“Oh fuck off.” He reaches forward and shoves me. I snicker and tuck my hands into my pockets.

“Touchy subject?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Didn’t know you rolled that way.” I wink at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t discriminate-”

“For the love of God!” He throws his hands up in the air. I can’t help but to laugh even more. It’s funny as hell to see him so worked up.

“So...should we get going?” I ask. Levi nods.

“Reiner texted me. We’re heading over to his place and leaving from there.”

“Yay,” I drawl sarcastically. Levi rolls his eyes again.

“Oh suck it up. As long as you don’t start shit with him you’ll be fine.”

“Me?” I scoff. “Last I checked, _you_ were the ones starting shit.”

“Alright, Jesus Christ.” Levi runs his fingers through his hair. “Keep your hands to yourself and try not to sound like a pretentious prick, alright?”

“Yes sir,” I say, saluting him. I glance at my house. “We should go before someone notices.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off and begins to walk away.

I follow after him, the bag around my wrist lightly banging against my leg. Levi glances down at it curiously before he looks at me.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks.

“Condoms,” I say instantly.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Looking to score?”

“Oh, I _know_ I am.”

“Alright, hotshot.” Levi grins at me and hits me with his arm. “Try not to do anything stupid, yeah?”

“Of course not.”

Reiner’s house looks no different than the two other houses it’s sandwiched between. I pass by the running car and try to ignore it as I climb the steps after Levi. He twists the knob and I realize that he must have been here many times before.

Not that I’m surprised, of course.

We step inside and I see that a few guys from the team are lounging on the couch. Marco, Franz, and Thomas all stand to greet Levi. Marco looks at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. I lean my shoulder against the wall, hands still in my pockets, and don’t say anything.

“Oh, hey Eren.” He walks towards me. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”

“Let’s just say someone was a little too persistent,” I reply. Levi scoffs.

“Oh please. You _wanted_ to come.”

I roll my eyes and don’t say anything. Marco gives me a hesitant smile before he goes over to talk to Thomas. Levi cups his hands around his mouth and yells up the stairs.

“Yo Reiner! Let’s go!”

“Alright, Jesus Christ!” Reiner comes down the stairs then. Even though I’m about five feet away, I can smell the cheap cologne he’s wearing.

“Shit, man, did no one ever tell you about less is more and all that?” I say before I can think about it.

Reiner looks at me quickly, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“What the- why is _he_ here?”

“I can hear you.” I roll my eyes.

“I invited him,” Levi says, shrugging. “You said I could bring anyone I wanted.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d bring fucking _Jaeger_!”

“Again, I’m literally right here,” I say. “Look, I don’t want any problems tonight. So let’s call a truce. You stay the fuck away from me and I’ll do the same. Deal?”

I hold my hand out for him to shake. His lips curl up into a snarl and he storms outside, the door slamming shut loudly behind him.

Well then.

My hand drops down to my side. Levi shakes his head and mutters something under his breath before he makes his way to the door.

“Let’s just go,” he says.

I follow him outside to Reiner’s car, hesitating before I get in. I end up squished in the backseat with Levi, Marco, and Thomas while Franz rides shotgun next to Reiner. I press my head up against the window and close my eyes, hoping to convince myself that nothing will happen.

The car ride is silent save for the obnoxiously loud song blaring from Reiner’s speakers. We arrive at Bertolt’s house in about a half an hour and I can’t even pretend like I’m not amazed. It’s definitely a movie worthy kind of house.

We all get out of the car. Reiner and Franz enter the house while Marco and Thomas go around the side. Levi and I stand in the driveway. I look at his face, noticing that his jaw is set tightly.

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he mutters. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He grabs my wrist and leads me into the house. I want to protest that I can walk myself, but then I realize that I have no idea where I’m going. When we get inside, I can feel people looking at me. Some of them look confused and I guess I can see why. Levi Ackerman, captain of the football team, is dragging along me, our school’s resident asshole.

What a sight.

We end up in the kitchen, where Levi instantly grabs a beer from the fridge. He wastes no time in popping the tab and taking a few large gulps. I watch him in surprise before I grab my own can and sip slowly at it.

Levi seems to have mellowed out. His grip on the can loosens and he leans back against the counter with his head hanging down. The music around is us is near deafening, but I ignore it as I focus my attention on him.

“Dude, seriously,” I say, my eyebrows furrowing. “You good?”

“Fantastic.” He finishes off his beer and slams his can down. He jerks his head towards the bag around my wrist. “Wrap it before you tap it, don’t take drinks from anybody, you know, all that shit.”

“Uh-”

“I gotta take a piss. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He slides past me without another word. I watch him for a few moments before I shake my head and look down at the bag. I sigh softly to myself and begin to search the house for Bertolt. He’s nowhere on the first floor, and I find myself heading upstairs. A group of kids are smoking a joint at the end of the hallway, and against my better judgement I approach them.

“Hey,” I say. One of them looks up at me, dark eyeshadow smeared across her eyelids. “Where’s Bertolt?”

“How should I know?” she snaps back. One of her friends laughs and takes another hit from the joint.

I scowl at them and begin my search upstairs. My legs are already aching from walking around so much. It occurs to me suddenly that I'm really fucking out of shape, but my nonexistent exercise routine is the last of my worries right now. I gotta find Bertolt. I poke my head into open doors and avoid closed ones just in case I walk in on something I’d rather not see.

When I finally reach the end of hallway, I spot Bertolt standing out on the balcony. I pass through the huge bedroom, feeling a little bad that my dirty sneakers are on the pristine white carpet.

“Bertolt?” I ask, poking my head outside. He turns to look at me with a start.

“Oh. ” He blinks a few times. “Um...Eren, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. I thrust the bag at him. “Happy birthday, man.”

Bertolt’s eyes nearly double in size. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the card and candy bar I bought at the corner store. I reach into my pocket and hand him a twenty with a smile.

“Sorry it’s not much,” I say. “I didn’t really know what to get.”

“I…” he trails off. “Why?”

“It’s your birthday,” I say with a shrug. “I figured everyone would be too busy trying to fuck each other to remember that.”

“Thank you, Eren,” he says quietly, tucking the card and the money back into the bag. He holds the candy bar out to me. “Want half?”

I want to say no, considering how it’s his present and all, but the look on his face has me nodding. We lean against the railing and watch as people shove each other into the pool despite it being freezing outside.

“So,” I say, swallowing the caramel in my mouth, “Is there a reason you’re up here alone?”

“I don’t like parties,” Bertolt mumbles, glancing down at the pool as he chews slowly on the candy bar.

“Too loud?” I ask. He nods. “So why don’t you tell Reiner that?”

Bertolt looks at me quickly.

“How did you…?”

“Oh please,” I scoff. “You look nervous whenever someone talks to you. I kinda figured Reiner was the mastermind behind this whole thing.”

Bertolt looks down at his feet.

“He was always more outgoing than I was,” he says. “He likes this kind of stuff.”

“So you’re forcing yourself to like it?” I furrow my eyebrows. “Dude, you don’t have to put yourself through this if you don’t want to.”

Bertolt shifts uncomfortably and I worry that I’m saying too much.

“He’s my only friend,” he replies slowly. “I mean, I know other people obviously. But it's not the same. We've known each other since we were kids. I just...I just want him to be happy.”

I follow his gaze to the pool, where Reiner is talking to some girl by the doors. They seem happy, and when I look at Bertolt I realize he _isn’t_.

“You can’t sacrifice yourself to make someone else happy,” I say softly. “You gotta make yourself happy first. Otherwise life’s just gonna suck all the time.”

Bertolt looks at me then, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Do you make yourself happy?” he asks. I’m taken off guard by the question. I swallow thickly and stare at the pool again.

“I don’t know how to anymore,” I say.

“Me neither,” Bertolt murmurs.

“You know,” I begin. “You’re not that bad. I didn’t know what to think of you because Reiner’s such a jackass, but you’re alright.”

“I kind of admire you,” Bertolt mumbles.

“Me?” I ask, my eyes wide. “I’m not exactly a role model.”

“Well maybe not,” Bertolt agrees. “But you can stand up for yourself.”

I don’t know how to respond. I grab his arm to get his attention.

“You can too,” I say. “Sometimes you just have to pretend like you’re not scared, you know? If you tell yourself that you’re not afraid you can do pretty much anything.”

Bertolt smiles widely at me. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen him smile before and I make a note to kick Reiner’s ass one of these days.

I stand with Bertolt until he begins yawning.

“Hey, get some sleep,” I say. “I know it might be hard considering all the music and whatever but you can try.”

“Thanks,” he says again. “Sorry for making you stay with me.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I snort. “I came because I wanted to. Happy birthday, again.”

Bertolt smiles again and nods. I pat his shoulder and walk back into the bedroom. I close the door softly behind me and go down the hallway. I make my way into the kitchen and grab another beer since I don’t remember where I put my other one.

As I stand in the kitchen, I realize that I have no desire to be here anymore. Watching everyone having a good time while the host is alone on his birthday makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t believe how selfish they all are, but mostly I’m disappointed in his so-called friends.

I finish my beer off and begin my search for Reiner. He’s still outside chatting up that girl but I don’t really give a shit.

“Hey, jackass!” I grab him by his injured arm and feel a surge of satisfaction go through me when he yelps in pain.

“What the fuck?” He looks down at me, and I realize that people are starting to take notice of us. I ignore them and glare up at him.

“You better have a good fucking explanation for why your friend is alone on his _birthday_ ,” I hiss.

Reiner narrows his eyes at me and shoves me away.

“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he snaps.

“Do you realize how selfish you are?” I ask him. “It’s his fucking birthday and you’re throwing a party that’s not even for him in _his_ house. Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

“It’s none of your fucking business, alright?!”

In hindsight, perhaps I should have seen the punch coming. But I’m too fired up to take in little details and Reiner’s punch has me stumbling back a few steps. I hold my hand over my nose to collect the blood as black spots dance in my eyes. The girl behind Reiner holds onto his good arm and says something to him that I can’t hear.

My head is screaming at me not to fight back, to walk away and not do anything stupid, but my body doesn't give a shit about being rational. I swing my arm forward with as much force as I can, my fist connecting solidly with Reiner’s jaw. His head swings back and I tackle him to the ground.

My whole body’s running on pure adrenaline, and I can’t even feel the pain in my face anymore. The blood’s dripping into my mouth and my breathing is coming out so quickly that my chest is starting to get sore.

Reiner kicks me off of him and punches me so hard I swear I black out for a few seconds. There’s shouting and then he’s being dragged off of me by Marco and Franz. Marco’s screaming in his face while someone grabs me up harshly and begins shaking me.

My vision goes hazy for a few moments. When it clears, I see Levi is in front of me, his face twisted up angrily as he shouts.

“...the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Didn’t I tell you not to do anything stupid?!”

I jerk away from him and spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. I rub my aching jaw and push my sweat-slicked hair away from my face. Levi runs his fingers through his hair and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go. I’m taking you home.”

I wrap my arm around my stomach and follow after him.

“Keys,” Levi says to Reiner, holding his hand out. Reiner looks at me and begins to protest.

“I don’t-”

“Give me the fucking keys!”

Reiner shuts up and hands him the keys. Levi looks at me and begins to walk. We make our way back into the house, ignoring the hushed whispers around us. As I pass by the grand staircase, I look up to see Bertolt leaning over the balcony. His jaw is dropped open in shock and he looks worried.

I give him a half-assed smile and follow Levi back outside. We get into Reiner’s car without another word. He puts the keys into the ignition and just sits there for a moment. The music in the background is muffled and barely audible.

“Why?” he asks simply.

“What?”

“Don’t act stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

I fold my hands in my lap and lean my head back against the seat.

“It’s Bertolt’s birthday and he didn’t even seem to care,” I say finally.

“And you do?” he asks. I roll my eyes.

“I didn’t buy condoms. I bought him a card and a candy bar. That's more than anyone else there gave him.”

Levi looks at me quickly. He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. He puts the car into gear and backs out of the driveway, running his fingers through his hair again.

“Why would you do that?” he mutters. “Punch Reiner, I mean.”

“I was mad,” I reply. “I just…”

“You don’t even know Bertolt.”

“Yeah, but the ones who do don’t care about him,” I snap. Levi flinches and falls quiet.

“...Sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Levi sighs quietly.

“I meant about bringing you here,” he says, gesturing to my face. I shrug.

“It’s not my first fight,” I say.

“Right,” he mumbles. “Jesus Christ, Eren. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I say honestly. “Again, not another first for me there.”

Levi grips the steering wheel tighter and shakes his head.

“Was it worth it?”

“Considering how Reiner’s gonna have one hell of a bruise tomorrow, yes.”

He snorts and doesn’t say anything else to me. The rest of our ride is spent in silence. He pulls up in front of my house and cuts the engine so that we’re surrounded by nothing but the sound of the wind howling against the closed windows.

I look at the dried blood crusted beneath my fingernails and try to think of something to say. Everything sounds stupid and lame so I keep my lips pressed together tightly and ignore the taste of copper in my mouth.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, but I don’t make a move to open the door. Levi sits completely still in the driver’s seat, watching with me with this unreadable expression on his face. “...Levi?”

“You’re kind of an idiot,” he says. I blink at him slowly.

“What the hell, man?”

“What? It’s true.”

Well, I can’t exactly argue with him there. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.

“Doesn’t mean you gotta point it out.”

“Oh well.” He shrugs. “By the way, my reputation is still intact.”

I sigh dramatically. “Mine just took a trip down the drain.”

“Right, because you were so concerned about that.” He rolls his eyes. “Look, what you did back there was actually kinda cool. Not the whole socking Reiner in the face thing I mean, but standing up for Bertolt.”

“Well someone has to,” I say, shrugging. “Night.”

I grab the door handle and let myself out of the car. I walk up to the house with my bloodied hands shoved into my pockets. The living room light is on, meaning I’ll have to explain where I was and why I smell like sweat, beer, and traces of weed.

I hesitate on the doorstep, torn between going inside and turning around. I look over my shoulder to see Levi still watching me, the window rolled down on the passenger side window. He gives me a lopsided grin before he pulls away from the curb.

I sigh and open the door, ready for all hell to break loose.

* * *

12:17 am, the kitchen table. The house smells like coffee and antiseptic spray. Jean presses his fingers harder against my nose then necessary and wipes the crusted blood away from my face.

“Your parents went easy on you, you know,” he says. “If you were my kid, it would’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”

“You already act like I’m your kid,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And besides, it’s not even that bad.”

“You smell like pot and beer and your face is all bruised up. It’s that bad.”

I turn my face away from him and look at the ground. My hands are balled into fists on my knees and I take a few deep, even breaths until my body relaxes.

Jean moves to set the bottle of rubbing alcohol down onto the table and reaches to grab his cup of coffee. He takes a few sips before he turns to sit across from me.

“So what happened?” he asks. I chew the inside of my cheek.

“I got pissed off at this guy and punched him without thinking. That’s all.”

Jean leans back in his seat.

“Who dropped you off?”

I scowl at him.

“You’re not at work. Stop interrogating me.”

“I’m not,” he says, shaking his head.

My hands curl up into fists again. I lean forward so my head’s hanging down, just so that I don’t have to look at him, and squeeze my eyes shut.

“I met up with Armin a week or so ago,” I say, my voice cracking. “I was pissed and alone and I just wanted to pretend like everything was okay. He told me you called him.”

I can hear Jean breathing in sharply. I watch as his leg jiggles up and down beneath the table.

“I’m worried.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re only seventeen, Eren!” He’s shouting now, standing up so suddenly that the dining chair hits the ground with a slam. I look up at him quickly. “I called him because you’re seventeen and I’m scared you’re going to do something you’re going to regret.”

“I’m not!” I’m shouting so loud that my voice is cracking. “Stop worrying about me! Why do you even care?!”

“I care because I told your sister I’d take care of you!”

“Don’t go there! Don’t you _dare_ fucking go there!”

“Why are you doing all of this?” he hisses. “Why the partying, why the drinking, why are you always sneaking out? Do you seriously hate being here so much?!”

I walk away from the table then, chewing the inside of my cheek so harshly that I can taste blood. I’m pacing the entryway of the kitchen furiously, my fingers tangled in my hair. My chest is heaving and I can feel my eyes blurring with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I can’t cry over this.

“Eren-”

" _Don’t_.”

He falls silent. I walk to the doorway and lean my head against the wall, pressing my hands against it to hold myself up.

“Please don’t,” I whisper.

“Eren, we need to-”

I ignore him and make my way upstairs. I slam the door so loudly that it shakes and lock it, throwing my back against it. I bury my face between my knees and scream so loudly my throat burns. My eyes are squeezed shut tightly and my body trembles as I attempt to hold my tears back.

“Please,” I say again, and I repeat that to myself over and over until my voice goes raw and my eyes can hardly stay open.

It occurs to me right before I fall asleep that I don’t know what I’m begging for.

* * *

Monday morning, English class. Mr. Smith looks between Reiner and I from the front of the room and I know he puts two and two together. I’m sure he’s heard about it by now considering how quickly news travels. Levi’s seat is empty but I try not to dwell on it as I focus on Mr. Smith’s explanation of one of the scenes in the novel.

The class goes by without incident and before I know it the bell’s ringing. My classmates either give me looks of disgust or interest as they pass by. I stand from my seat slowly and wait until Reiner’s gone just because I don’t want to deal with anyone’s shit today.

“Eren, do you have a minute?” Mr. Smith’s voice stops me. I dig my fingernails into my palm and don’t turn around.

“I have to get to class, Mr. Smith,” I reply.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I have to talk to you about something.”

I exhale in resignation and turn around to face him.

“What’s up?”

“Is everything alright?” he asks. He’s looking into my eyes but I can see his gaze dip down to look at the bruises on my face.

“I’m fine,” I say. “It was just a little altercation. It’s nothing new-”

“That’s not what I meant.” He cuts me off. I swallow thickly and wait for him to continue. “I know you’ve had some extenuating circumstances that have caused a drop in your performance.”

Extenuating circumstances? Jesus fucking Christ.

“Everything’s fine,” I say. Mr. Smith rounds his desk so that he can lean against it, his hands holding him up.

“Eren,” he begins seriously. “You’re failing this class. I’ve talked to your other teachers, and it seems that you aren’t doing well in your other classes either.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I mutter.

“As it stands today, it’s very unlikely that you’ll be able to graduate with the rest of your peers.”

I’ve been expecting this. I knew that I could only fall for so long before I finally hit the bottom. But now that it’s here, now that I know that my future isn’t as bright as I once tricked myself into thinking, I can’t breathe.

“That’s fine,” I force myself to say, almost choking on the words.

“Is it really?” Mr. Smith gives me a concerned look that makes me want to puke. Or scream, I can’t really tell at this point. “I realize that the loss of your sister has impacted your ability to uphold your performance, but you cannot let that stop you from graduating.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” I snap before I can stop myself. “Hasn’t anyone ever thought that the reason I’m like this is because I don’t care?”

Mr. Smith doesn’t seem fazed by my outburst, but then again he doesn’t seem to get worked up about anything.

“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t care, Eren,” he says. “But if you truly don’t, then I suppose this conversation is pointless to you.”

I nod jerkily.

“Thanks for the warning, but I’m okay,” I say.

“Whatever you say.” Mr. Smith stands up slowly. “I can’t make you do anything, but I am holding tutoring every Thursday after school. You can use it to catch up on all your assignments.”

“If I care,” I say. Mr. Smith meets my eyes.

“If you care,” he says. “Give it a thought. If I don’t see you on Thursday I’ll know where you stand.”

He turns his attention back to the pile of essays on his desk. I stand before him for a few minutes, awkwardly fingering the hem of my hoodie, before the door opens and students begin to walk inside.

I swallow thickly and quickly walk out of the room. My hands won’t stop shaking for some reason, and I shove them into my pocket to hide them. Someone grabs my arm and brings me to a stop, and for a split second I think that it’s Reiner. But the hand isn’t as big and when I look at it the skin’s too pale to be him.

Levi’s eyebrows are furrowed when I look at him and I can’t decide if I’m happy or annoyed. Wordlessly, he tugs me after him to the staircase that leads up to the roof. The door is locked and I watch as he uses a bobby pin to pick the lock before he leads me outside.

I walk behind him like a complacent child. I want to ask him what he’s doing but my mouth won’t form the words.

“Talk,” he says simply.

I look at him strangely.

“About what?”

“Something happened,” he says. “I can tell.”

“You stalking me?” I ask with a forced laugh. He rolls his eyes and leans back against the railing. The wind blows his once immaculately kept hair astray.

“I was going to get a drink but then I saw you moping,” he says. “Curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz.”

“Right,” I exhale softly. “Why weren’t you in English?”

“Overslept,” he says simply. “You didn’t answer. What happened?”

I chew the inside of my cheek and don’t answer.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone.”

“I know.”

“You should start talking.”

“I know.”

I don’t say anything for a while as I try to find the words.

“Sometimes I’m so far off of the ground that I can’t even fathom what reality is like,” I begin slowly. “I delude myself into thinking everything is okay and that the world isn’t shitty. But then I fall and I realize how fucked up everything is. Let’s just say I’m drowning in reality right now.”

I expect him to say I sound like a lunatic. I glance up at him, and he looks back at me thoughtfully.

“I think I get it,” he says. “You paint this perfect picture of your life and you think you’re living it until someone comes along and reminds you that what you have isn’t even close to what you thought you did.”

I’m so shocked that my mind blanks out for a second. I think he’s pulling my leg but he looks completely serious as he stares at me.

“You’ve been there?” I finally ask. He snorts.

“I’m there right now,” he says, sliding down so he’s sitting against the railing. I hesitate before I sit next to him.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask.

“Do you?”

“Not really.”

“Well there’s your answer then.”

He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. I watch him before I bite my lip and look down at my hands, running my fingers lightly over my bruised knuckles.

“Why were you mad?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“At Bertolt’s party,” I say. “When we were in the kitchen you seemed pissed off.”

“Reiner,” he says curtly.

“Oh.”

“He was being a jackass.”

“So was I.”

“Yeah but you’re not always like that.” He rolls his eyes. “At least you had a _reason_. Reiner’s just a douchebag because he can be one.”

We fall into silence again.

“I’m not gonna graduate on time,” I say. “Mr. Smith held me up after class.”

Levi turns to look at me.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I say.

“So...what’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t fucking know.” I groan and drop my head down.

“Well do you _want_ to graduate?” he asks.

I curl my legs up to my chest.

“I would get killed if I didn’t,” I say. “But even then I’m not sure. I think my parents gave up on trying. My brother-in-law keeps pushing for me to change but I can’t. It’s not like I _want_ to be fucked up. But acting like this is the only thing helping me keep my sanity.”

“I think you want to graduate,” he says. “I mean, I don’t know what your deal is or whatever, but everyone wants to graduate. Everyone always talks about it and it’s like the first step to becoming independent. It’s proof that you’re ready to take on life.”

“What if I don’t want to?” I mumble. “What if I want to be independent but handling life by myself scares the shit out of me?”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” he says. “No one’s alone in life.”

“You sound pretty different from the guy who was trying to tell me everyone’s a villain.”

“I didn’t say everyone was a villain.” He rolls his eyes. “I said _someone_ has to be.”

“Oh yes, of course,” I say. “Everything’s not sunshine and rainbows, right?”

“Right.” He nods. “See, you’re getting it.”

“We should head back,” I say, clearing my throat.

“Probably,” he says with a smirk. “Don't go telling everyone about this.”

“Of course not,” I snort.

“I can tolerate you, but we’re not friends,” he says.

“Right. You do this for everyone you tolerate?”

“Just the special ones,” he snickers. “Smile. You’re an exception.”

“Well fuck me. Never thought _the_ Levi Ackerman would make an exception for little old me.”

He shrugs and stands up, holding his hand out to me. I hesitate before grabbing it, pulling myself to my feet.

“I'm feeling generous,” he says.

“Damn. You ever show anyone else this generosity?”

“Nah, no one else has to know.”

I roll my eyes and follow him back downstairs. We linger in front of the door for a few minutes before I look at him.

“Thanks, Levi,” I say. He nods.

“Sure. But next time, make sure I’m drunk before you go all deep and personal on me.”

I think back to when we had been seated beneath the bleachers. I had said a similar thing then, didn’t I? The thought of Levi indirectly quoting me causes me to smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, winking as I slide past. “See you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes, though there’s a soft smile on his face.

A warm feeling swirls in the pit of my stomach. I force myself to ignore it as I walk to physics, feeling slightly more optimistic than I have in a while.


	6. Six: Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided that this story's going to be longer than ten chapters. I really didn't plan for it but like I mentioned to some of you guys I really liked the path this story was taking. There was just no way I would get everything I wanted to get in ten chapters. There's no set limit for this story now so I apologize if it ends up becoming a 50 chapter monster or something. Thanks for all of the continued support and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

The locker room’s dead silent when I walk in.

Right away I know something’s not right. If you stick a bunch of teenage boys into a room, there’s no way in hell they’re gonna be quiet. That’s just how it works. That’s how it’s _always_ worked.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Everyone’s eyes instantly snap to me. Marco looks a little surprised, like he didn’t expect I’d be there or something, and I feel a hell of a lot more suspicious.

I narrow my eyes and adjust my bag. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds all of a sudden.

“ _W_ _hat_ -”

“Um...” Marco cuts me off. He runs his fingers through his hair and looks at the rest of the team.

They all scatter off in different directions. Marco rubs at his face and shifts his weight from foot to foot. I watch him until I can feel myself getting more and more irritated.

“Jesus Christ, Marco. Can you just spit it out-”

“It’s Bertolt,” he says. His voice is hushed. I can barely hear him over the blood now rushing in my ears.

“What about him?” I ask. I think of Friday and frown. “Did Reiner do-”

“No, no.” Marco waves his hands and cuts me off again. “It’s just...I don’t know, okay? He was being really cryptic and I don’t _know_.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I say impatiently.

Marco looks at me for a few seconds before he nods a couple of times. He rubs his face again and swallows.

“You need to talk to him,” he says. “He won’t say anything to anyone else. Reiner’s been trying but it’s not working. He skipped practice. I think he went home.”

“I can’t do anything about it now.”

“Please, Levi. I’m serious, something’s not right.”

“We have practice,” I say coldly. “I can’t drop everything because he’s doing God knows what.”

“Levi, just go.” Marco actually looks panicked. “I don’t know what it is but we’re all freaking out.”

“It’s not like he’s dying. It’s not that serious. You’re being overdramatic.”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say. Marco’s face twists up before he shakes his head in disgust.

“Can you at least _pretend_ you give a shit?”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” I growl. “I’ll see him after practice, okay? Jesus fucking Christ I don’t know what the big fucking deal is-”

“He wants to quit the team, asshole!” Marco shouts.

My mouth is hanging open awkwardly as the meaning of his words dawn onto me. I press my lips together tightly and run his words over a few more times in my head.

“He _what_?”

“He wants to quit,” Marco repeats, quieter, and sits down onto the bench. “He wouldn’t tell me why. He said he wanted to quit and that he wanted to talk to you. That’s all I got out of him before he left.”

I don’t know what I’m feeling. I can’t tell if I’m hurt or mad or _whatever_. I kinda feel numb. I stare at Marco again. He looks back at me silently before I turn and leave the locker room without another word.

* * *

The bus doesn’t take me directly to Bertolt’s house. I have to walk for about five blocks before I finally reach it. The fountain in the yard is spraying water. I watch the bubbles forming at the bottom and the gentle arch of the water before I shake my head and walk towards the steps.

I knock on the door impatiently. When no one goes to open it, I turn the knob and let myself in. I’m a little surprised it’s unlocked but I decide not to question it.

I walk through the house before I find myself at the back of the house. An image of Eren screaming his head off at Reiner pops into my mind. I push it away and slide the door open.

Bertolt’s sitting in front of the pool, his legs crossed underneath him. His uniform is folded neatly beside him. I approach him, only stopping when I’m pretty much right behind him. I sit down next to him without a word.

“Sorry for making you come all this way,” he says. I stare out at the pool.

“Why?”

“Why _what_?”

“You know what,” I snap. I’m not in the mood for any bullshit. Pain blossoms from behind my eye and I know I’m ten seconds away from getting a headache. “What the fuck is all this?”

“Marco talked to you?” Bertolt looks at the pool, his eyebrows furrowed. “I did some thinking.”

“Yeah, obviously.” I look at his uniform and shake my head. “Is this about Friday?”

“Why would it have to do with Friday?” he asks carefully.

“You know,” I begin. “The whole Reiner thing. Did that-”

“Why would that have anything to do with it?” Bertolt says. His voice is calm. His expression, however, kinda looks like he wants to drown me in the pool.

“You talked to Eren didn’t you-”

“So what if I did?” Bertolt finally looks at me. “So _what_ if I talked to Eren? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I guess,” I say. “You’re being defensive-”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” Bertolt shakes his head and looks at the pool. “I’m just...I’m _tired_ , Levi.”

“Of what?”

“Everything.” He closes his eyes for a few seconds. “I just...I can’t pretend anymore.”

“So…”

“So I’m quitting,” Bertolt says. “I’m quitting because football isn’t something I need right now.”

“Oh, so the team’s just disposable to you?” I snap. I don’t know why _I’m_ being defensive all of a sudden. “You think you can just toss it all away because-”

“Stop!”

“Why?!”

“Because you have _no_ idea what you’re talking about!” Bertolt has tears in his eyes, tears that I can actually _see_ , and I feel like shit. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I grit my teeth together.

“Explain it to me, then.”

“I’m not important.”

“You’re important.”

“Not enough. I...I don’t even give a damn about football. I just did it because Reiner wanted to.”

 I snort. “That’s a shitty reason to make a commitment.”

“Yeah, and I’m realizing that now.” Bertolt runs his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes people do things for other people and not for themselves."

“Why would you do that to yourself?” I ask. Maybe it’s because I’m captain, but I can’t imagine joining football just because someone else wanted me to.

“You wouldn’t get it,” Bertolt says. It stings a bit to hear that, but then I realize that maybe he has a point. “Even if I tried to explain it you wouldn’t get it.”

“What do you mean?”

Bertolt brings his thighs to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

“Have you ever loved someone?” he asks. It’s a weird question and I can feel my eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah,” I say slowly. Bertolt looks at me.

“No, like _really_ loved someone?” he asks. His voice is soft, timid, and I can barely hear him. “Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them?”

I think of my mom before I can stop it. I think of her pale, delicate fingers and her wide smile. I think of the bags beneath her eyes and I think of how sometimes she’d cry when she saw my face. I think of how Kenny had to keep his hand clamped over my mouth when I screamed because she wasn’t breathing.

A lump forms in my throat. I can’t answer even if I try.

I force myself to nod.

“Oh.” Bertolt blinks three times. I count it because it helps calm me down. I tap my fingers against the edge of the pool seven times because it distracts me from the tight, constricting feeling in my chest. “Maybe you _do_ get it.”

A strong breeze blows over us then. The wind ruffles our hair and I slide my hands into the pockets of my jacket. My fingers brush over the change for the bus ride back. I grip onto a quarter until the edges bite into my skin.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s okay if you wanna quit.”

Bertolt looks at me like he doesn’t quite believe me. I smile at him even though my face feels like it doesn’t want to move.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious,” I say. My mouth feels dry, like I’ve just spent three days in the desert, and I struggle to swallow the saliva in my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I’m not sure why, but the apology feels like it’s not for me. I nod jerkily and stand up. Bertolt continues to sit there, legs crossed, hair whipped around in the wind. He reaches over and hands me his uniform just as I’m about to turn away.

I grip onto his jersey so hard that my knuckles turn white.

I don’t go back to school and I don’t go home. I sit on the bus and watch people get on and off. I try to look for familiar features. If I see freckles I think of Marco. If I see blond hair I think of Reiner or of myself after I dyed it. I get tired of it after a while, though, so I end up sitting there.

I don’t know what time it is. My phone’s in my bag at school and I don’t know how long I was at Bertolt’s house. But the sun is starting to go down and the sky’s a little grey. I get off when the bus stops next. The cold air slips through the space between my pockets and the sleeve of my jacket. I keep my head down as I walk aimlessly.

I think of Bertolt. I think of the tears in his eyes and how broken he sounded. I think of him talking to Eren. I think of what Eren could have _possibly_ said to him to cause this.

I think of his uniform, abandoned on the bus, and wonder if anyone will care.

* * *

I don’t see Eren until Friday. It’s been a week since the incident with Reiner and he seems perfectly fine. The bruise on his face doesn’t look as shocking. Or maybe I’m so used to seeing it that it doesn’t really affect me anymore.

“Oh, hey!” Eren grabs me by the elbow as I pass by him.

I stare at his hand around my arm. I don’t know why, but I can’t look away. I’ve been feeling out of it since I talked to Bertolt. Everything seems like it has some kind of important message or meaning and I don’t know _why_.

Maybe that’s why I’m staring at Eren’s hand. Maybe I’m supposed to get some kind of epiphany about it. Maybe I’m supposed to realize that Eren has nice fingers, or maybe his hand on my arm is symbolic of some need for human contact.

I don’t, though. I just get pissed and shove him off. He looks at me, his eyes big and wide, and I grip his shoulder. My knuckles are white and I can feel my entire body shaking.

“What the fuck?” Eren’s looking from his shoulder to my hand and then up to my face. “Levi, what the-”

“I don't want to talk,” I say. My voice is so low that I’m surprised I can even hear what I’m saying.

Eren’s eyebrows furrow. It makes me angrier. Why can't he leave me alone? Doesn't he see that I don't want to talk?

“Levi?” Eren’s unlatching my fingers from my shoulder. He smooths out the wrinkles on his shirt and looks at me with concern.

“What?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Name calling? Nice.”

“Dude, seriously, who pissed in your Cheerios?” he asks.

“No one. It’s just how I am. You know, a coping mechanism?” I’m mocking him now. Eren gets it, if the dark look on his face is anything to go by. He doesn’t say anything, though. “It’s an excuse for me to act like a dick for no reason. That’s all coping mechanism are. They’re just total fucking _bullshit_.”

Eren’s grabbing my wrist and dragging me after him. I follow him blindly, laughing to myself as I continue going on about God knows what. My mouth’s running on autopilot and my brain doesn’t care enough to stop it.

“I mean, who comes _up_ with this shit? Who decided to give it a label, you know? Doesn’t that make it easier for people to make shit up? Isn’t that-”

“Shut the  _fuck_ up.”

I shut the fuck up.

I chew the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. Eren opens the door to the boys’ bathroom and shoves me inside. I stumble before I get my footing. He presses his back against the door and watches me as I pace back and forth, running my fingers through my hair.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I don’t know why I can’t stop it.

I stop myself in front of the sink and grip the sides of it hard. I refuse to look at myself in the mirror. I know I look like shit.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again. He sounds patient and I fucking hate it.

“Nothing.”

“You’re freaking out. It’s obviously something.” Eren slouches a little against the door. “I just...are you okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth and stand up straight. I keep wringing my hands to hide the fact that they won’t stop shaking.

“Well what happened?” he asks.

I look at him for a few minutes.

“Bertolt quit the team,” I say. Eren has this knowing look in his eyes that I ignore. “He quit the team and it...fuck, it felt shitty.”

“What felt shitty?”

“To hear him say he was done,” I say. “He _knew_ he was done. He knew he didn’t give a shit about it anymore. It felt shitty to know that _he_ felt shitty about it.”

I know I’m babbling so I bite my tongue. Eren watches me silently from his spot against the door.

“I had no idea,” I say, my voice terrifyingly small. I sound vulnerable, and I haven’t felt vulnerable in a while. “I’m the captain, I should know how my team feels. But I had no idea.”

“He hid it well,” Eren says. I swallow thickly and nod.

“He told you, though.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows. “He trusted me.”

“Why didn’t he trust me?” I mutter. “I’ve known him for years. _Years_. He talked to you for five minutes and he told you more than he’s ever told me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Eren sounds tired now. “I’m sorry he opened up to me? Shouldn’t you be  _happy_?”

“Why would I be happy?”

“He’s doing something because he wants to,” Eren says. “He’s standing up for himself. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

I don’t know how I feel. I can’t help but feel childish as I stand in the middle of the bathroom.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I just don’t _know_ , okay?”

“He wasn’t trying to hurt you-”

“I’m not hurt, damn it. I just...fuck.”

I run my fingers through my hair and try to relax. Eren pushes himself off of the door and grabs me by the shoulders so I’m forced to look at him.

“Hey,” he whispers. “It’s okay, you know.”

“It doesn’t feel okay.”

“It’s okay, I swear. It wasn’t anything you did. He just needed to do this for himself.”

“Right,” I say. I lick my dry lips and decide now’s a good time to be honest. “It made me think.”

Eren’s hands tighten a bit on my shoulder and he looks confused.

“What did?”

“Bertolt. Him leaving, I mean. It made me think. Maybe that’s why I’m like this. I haven’t thought about things in a while.”

“What’d you think about?”

“I left his uniform on the bus,” I say. “I got on the bus to go back to school but I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to go home either. I just sat there for a while. Then I just decided to get off suddenly and I left his uniform behind. Once I realize that I did I wondered if anyone would even care that it was gone.”

“Well,” Eren starts slowly. “You care, don’t you?”

“I’m not enough,” I say. “I can’t be the only person to care.”

“You’re not,” he whispers. “Trust me, you’re _not_.”

It occurs to me suddenly that we’re not even talking about the uniform. It had never been about the uniform. The uniform was just a white shirt and pants. The uniform was easily replaceable. If I scoured up thirty bucks, I could make an identical uniform.

You can’t do the same thing with people, though. Thirty bucks won’t replace a teammate.

“What did you say to him that night?” I say. I feel less frantic now, less like I’m losing control.

“I told him not to do things because people wanted him to,” he says. “I told him that he had to make himself happy first before he tried to make others happy. Otherwise life would just be shitty. Then he asked me if I knew how to make myself happy.”

“Do you?” I ask. “Know how to make yourself happy, I mean.”

“In a superficial way, yes,” he says.

“What about genuinely? Do you _genuinely_ make yourself happy?”

“Name one person who does,” he murmurs. When I can’t, he nods slowly. “There’s your answer.”

“Remember what I told you?” I ask.

“What? You’ve told me many things.”

“After you talked to Mr. Smith, when we went up to the roof.”

“What about it?” he asks, finally letting go of me.

“I told you that people paint this perfect picture of their life,” I say. “And then I said that sometimes another person comes around and reminds them that they’re not living it.”

“I remember.” Eren twists the edge of his shirt around one of his fingers. “What about it?”

I shrug.

“You showed Bertolt what his picture was actually like,” I say. Eren looks at me strangely for a few seconds before he looks away.

“What about you?” he asks. “Did someone show you what your picture was really like?”

“Maybe,” I say. “I don’t know yet.”

Eren looks at me for a few seconds before his smiles and grabs my wrist.

“C’mon,” he says. “I thought you said we had to be drunk for us to do this kind of stuff.”

“Well yes,” I say. “But I’m not really into drinking.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “You can watch.”

I decide not to ask him where we’re going. I let myself get dragged out to the bus stop. We sit on the bench for about ten minutes until I can finally see the bus. We board silently after depositing our money and find seats near the back. The bus is basically empty because it’s not lunch hour and everyone’s either at work or school.

I don’t remember closing my eyes, but when I open them Eren’s suddenly standing up. I follow his lead as he gets off the bus and begins walking down the street. I don’t know where we’re going, but it occurs to me that we’re no longer in Shiganshina. My eyes dart from apartment buildings to a tiny laundromat to a stand at the end of the street selling hot dogs.

I look back at the sign by the bus stop. The nails are rusted over but the words are clear as day.

“Trost,” I mutter. I think of Reiner’s intense dislike for the place and almost laugh.

Eren darts in and out of people like a pro. I guess the city crowd isn’t much different than the hallways at school. The only time I ever go to the city is to see the doctor. I used to live in an apartment building with my mom before-

I stop the train of thought before it can continue. Eren suddenly turns into an alley, and I watch him lead me up the fire escape of one of the apartment buildings.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask him.

He grins down at me and helps me up. I shake my hair out of my eyes and watches as he expertly climbs up. He’s obviously been here many times before. He stops about halfway up the side of the building and raps heavily on the window.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the window slides up and it escapes me in a wheeze. I cough a few times and squint my eyes so I can see the person on the other side. I can’t see much of his face since Eren’s head is in the way, but I can tell he has messy black hair.

“...and this is Levi.” I’m finally up on the landing beside Eren. The guy looks at me for a few seconds before he narrows his eyes.

“Levi,” he repeats.

“Uh, yeah,” I say lamely. “Levi.”

He raises an eyebrow and steps away from the window.

“I guess I’m housing two delinquents for the evening,” he says in a bored, even voice.

“You’re the best, you know,” Eren says, grinning widely, and steps through the window. I hesitate before following after him. “Oh shit. This is Nick, by the way.”

“Nickolas,” the guy corrects.

“Right,” I say, clearing my throat quietly. Nickolas it is.

Eren walks further into the living room and drops himself onto the couch. He seems oddly comfortable, as if he’s been here multiple times before.

The thought causes a strange feeling to swirl in the pit of my stomach. I brush it off and sit down gingerly beside him. The apartment is sparsely furnished, containing pretty much all the basics. The coffee table by my knee looks a little beat up. There aren’t any decorations other than a vase full of wilting lilies and a shelf lined with framed photos. I furrow my eyebrows when I recognize Eren and Nickolas in one. There’s a girl with short black hair and dark eyes in it. She and Nickolas both have similar blank expressions, but Eren’s smiling widely.

I force myself to look away.

“Nick!” Eren tosses his head back to look at him. “Do you have any beer?”

“You only want me for my alcohol I swear,” Nickolas mutters.

“I’m not exactly legal, you know,” Eren says. “Besides, I want you for things other than alcohol.”

I furrow my eyebrows at his words. Nickolas stiffens before he clears his throat loudly and walks towards the kitchen.

“Who is he?” I whisper to Eren once he’s out of earshot. He doesn’t look like a highschool student and I can’t help but to wonder how Eren knows him.

Eren raises an eyebrow.

“Does it matter?”

“Kind of, yeah,” I say. Eren doesn’t reply so I nudge him with my arm. “Seriously, who is-”

“Here.” Nickolas tosses a beer can at Eren. He holds the other one in his hands for a few seconds before he looks at me. “Beer?”

“I don’t really drink,” I say.

Nickolas scoffs and pops the tab before he takes a sip. He seats himself into the armchair by the couch Eren and I are sitting on and just watches us. I shift uncomfortably and my eyes drift towards the photo on the shelf again.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Nickolas comments offhandedly. Eren seems to get annoyed by it, though.

“I guess not,” he says. “Kinda been busy. Jean moved in, too.”

“Jean?” Nickolas raises his eyebrows. “You mean...?”

“Yeah,” Eren snorts. “You know how he gets.”

“I guess some things don’t change,” Nickolas mutters. He takes another sip of his beer and looks at me. I grit my teeth.

“ _What_?”

He looks a little surprised before he smirks.

“Nothing,” he says innocently.

Eren suddenly sits up beside me. He gives Nickolas this look I can’t explain before he sits back. I look between them for a few seconds before I focus my attention on the carpet. I don’t know what’s going on between them.

“I should go,” I say, clearing my throat. “My uncle will flip if I’m not home on time.”

It’s not totally a lie. Kenny’s been off of my back lately, but I’m pretty sure he’d be right back on me if he knew I skipped class to go to some guy's apartment with a kid from school. He’d probably be even more pissed if he knew about the beer.

I stand up slowly and wait for Eren to do the same. When he doesn’t, I can feel my eyebrows furrowing.

“Eren…?”

“We just got here,” Eren says, twirling his beer can on the coffee table.

“Yeah, but we should go,” I say. “What about your parents?”

“They won’t think anything,” he says. His eyebrows are furrowed. “They never really do.”

“Eren!” I’m getting annoyed with him. He looks up at me, expressionless.

“You can go if you want to,” he says before he leans back onto the couch again. “I’m staying here.”

Nickolas stands up and sets his can on the table.

“Gotta take a piss,” he says, and disappears down a hallway.

“Eren, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“We should go,” I say again. “You can’t stay here.”

“It’s not the first time,” he says.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed!” I shake my head. “Jesus, Eren. How old is he?”

“Why does it even _matter_?”

“Because it’s weird!” I snap. “It’s _weird_ and I don’t want you to stay here.”

Eren looks at me then, his mouth half open. I swallow thickly and realize that I can’t take my words back.

“It’s not about what you want,” Eren mutters.

“Eren, c’mon.” I grab his arm and try to pull him up. “Just come with me, okay?”

I don’t know why I want him to leave so badly. Something about Nickolas rubs me the wrong way and I just can’t pin it.

“I’m fine, okay?” Eren grips my wrist and pulls me off of him. “Nick’ll take care of me. He always does. I crash here a lot. It’s _f_ _ine_.”

I want to tell him that _no_ , it’s not fine. I chew the inside of my cheek and force myself to nod.

“Yeah, okay.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Stay. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Nickolas comes back then, his footsteps obnoxiously loud in the suddenly silent apartment.

“Oh,” he says, pretending to be surprised. “You’re still here?”

“I was just leaving,” I say, making my way to the door. I linger by it for a few minutes, just to see if Eren will look at me, but he never does. He stays seated, beer can cradled in his hands.

Nickolas looks at me expectantly. I swallow the sour taste in my mouth and open the door, slamming it shut behind me.

My head is a jumbled mess of thoughts as I take the bus home. I’ve gone to plenty of games at Trost, so I pretty much know the way home by now. No matter what I do, I can’t get the image of Eren on Nickolas’s couch out of my head. When I close my eyes, all I see is how he had sat there and stared at the ground. I don’t know why I’m surprised that he hadn’t come home with me. He had seemed pretty adamant to stay, but a small part of me really thought he’d come.

I press my hand against my chest in an attempt to soothe the sudden dull ache in my heart and close my eyes to take a short nap until I get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nickolas is [that one guy](http://kirathequeenofrome.tumblr.com/post/70027310866/a-friend-of-mine-introduced-him-to-the-japanese) who made a three second cameo in one of the OVAs because in my original draft for the story his character was originally an OC. But then I decided I didn't really want an OC and I couldn't really think of someone else to take his place that wasn't already in the story. His character is pretty important later on in the fic so I decided to just use a minor character and be done with it.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Besides I'm pretty sure everyone and their mother loved this guy at one point ~~~~~~


	7. Seven: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/jjibunrock/we-ve-got-a-lot-of-problems) if anyone is interested. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, I honestly got stuck for a while on it. I hope you all enjoy!

2:17 am, Nick’s car. He’s driving me home, the driver side window of his car rolled all the way down. The cold air seeps into the crevice between my sweatshirt and my wrist, causing me to shiver. Nick doesn’t seem to notice, and I don’t really feel like saying anything. The car is mostly silent except for the low hum of the radio. It’s too quiet for me to make out what song is playing. Nick reaches over to shut it off when we stop at a red light. I rest my head against the passenger side window and exhale softly.

Nick finally glances over at me. I pretend to not notice until it begins to annoy me.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? I’m just looking at you.”

I click my tongue and turn to face him. The light from the street lamp casts shadows across his face. It makes him seem older somehow, and the sight causes a strange feeling to swirl in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re fucking weird,” I say, and Nick snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says breezily. He shifts in the seat and hums quietly. “So…”

“ _What_?”

“Jesus, what’s with your attitude?” He raises an eyebrow. “It’s worse than usual.”

“I’m fucking tired, okay? What do you want me to say?”

“Sorry would be nice.”

“I’m not sorry for shit." I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Suck it up.”

“Jesus,” he says again.

I almost laugh at that. Nick calls himself a devout Christian but he’s always using the Lord’s name in vain and all of that. I don’t really know how religion works but I’m pretty sure that’s a bad thing. I never say anything to him about it  though. It’s funny, in a sort of ironic way.

“…Sorry.”

Nick grins widely. I smack his thigh harshly and cringe when he chortles loudly.

“Loser,” I mutter, without any bite, and Nick continues snickering. He slides his hand onto my thigh and squeezes. I flinch and he instantly moves away. I force myself to look out of the window again.

He turns onto my street and I suddenly feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. I take a few deep breaths and try to pretend that I can’t feel my hands getting all clammy. Nick gives me a concerned look but I wave him off and wipe my hands on my jeans.

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re gonna puke,” Nick says when he pulls up to the curb. He leans over until his face is the only thing I can see in front of me. “Jesus Christ, Eren, you’re fucking-”

“I know, damn it,” I say, pushing him away.  I don’t even know what he was going to say. I just don’t want to hear it. “I’m gonna fucking get killed.”

“Well shit,” Nick murmurs, glancing from the front door to me. “Didn’t know you were scared of your parents.”

“I’m not scared, damn it,” I snap. “It’s not them.”

Nick furrows his eyebrows before he presses his lips together and nods.

“Jean, right?” he says simply.

I exhale shakily and nod, pressing my head back against the seat.

“He asks too many questions,” I say. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I don’t even have a story prepared.”

“Fuck.” Nick snorts and shakes his head. “He doesn’t know?”

“No one does,” I say.

Nick rolls his eyes.

“Except for your friend, right?”

“Friend?” I mutter. It takes me a few seconds for me to realize he means Levi. “Wait, we’re not friends.”

“Uh-huh. _Right_.”

“Why are you saying it like that?” I ask. Nick scoffs.

“Oh come on,” he groans. “You’re kidding, right? Fucking kid hates my guts.”

“You’re a douchebag. Even I hate your guts.”

“Do you really?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

I press my lips together and decide not to answer. Nick settles back in his seat, looking satisfied.

“He doesn’t know anything,” I say, just so that I get the last word.

Nick hums and doesn’t reply. I lick the corner of my dry lips and grip the door handle firmly. Nick watches me expectantly until I exhale quietly and open the door. I pull my sweatshirt sleeves down so they cover my cold fingers and look at Nick.

“You gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. I want to smile but my face feels frozen. I settle for nodding. “Seriously, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Nick says doubtfully. I swallow roughly.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, sure. Good luck, Eren.”

I slam the car door shut and walk slowly to the front door. The living room curtains are parted a bit, and I can see the lights are on. I lick my lips again and take my keys out of my pocket. Once I get the door unlocked, I stand in front of it and stare at my shoes. The door knob is cold and I can feel myself shivering. I chew my lower lip and twist the knob. The door makes a whining sound as I push it open. I step into the hallway and close the door softly behind myself. I kick my sneakers off and drop my keys into the bowl on the table.

I make my way into the living room and stand behind the couch. Jean watches me blankly from the armchair, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looks paler than I ever remember him being and there are dark circles under his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do I. We stare at each other until Jean shifts his position in the chair, the springs creaking under his weight. It sounds obnoxiously loud in the silent house.

“You stayed up." I look at him and wait for him to respond. He opens his mouth and quickly closes it.

“Do you know what time it is?” he finally asks.

“Yup.”

He leans back with a weary expression on his face. I slide my hands into the pockets of my pants and sit down onto the couch.

“Should I ask where you were?”

“You can. I’m not gonna tell you.”

The tension in the room is palpable. I swallow thickly and stare at the rug underneath the coffee table. I always hated it. There’s nothing really wrong with it, though. It’s plain and pretty soft. But something about it makes me dislike it. I’m not really sure why.

“Are my parents up?”

“No.”

“Did they know I wasn’t home?”

“We all know at this point, Eren. We always know.”

I cross my arms over my chest and give him a challenging look.

“What do you want me to say?”

“An explanation would be nice. But that’s too much for you, right? You just like doing whatever the hell it is you do.”

“Well when you put it like that I feel like a dick.”

“Good. You are. You’re so selfish.” Jean shakes his head again and runs his fingers through his hair. “You could get killed one day and no one would ever know.”

I don’t tell him that I’ve thought about the idea many times. I also don’t mention how appealing I find said idea. Instead, I raise an eyebrow and lean back into the cushions.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I say. “Going out every night isn’t gonna get me killed. No one’s waiting in an alley to beat me to death. I’m not gonna get hit-”

I stop myself before I can finish the sentence. Jean’s jaw drops a little, like he’s surprised I would even go there, but then he sighs quietly.

“Jesus Christ, Eren.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I trail off. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m sorry.”

Jean closes his eyes and leans forward, his head in his hands. I stare at him, unsure if I should keep talking or not. Whenever I try to speak I tend to escalate the situation, so I decide to keep my mouth shut.

“Where were you?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

I chew the inside of my cheek and debate about whether or not I should tell him.

 “With a friend.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Sure.”

“Do you plan on sharing?”

“No, not really. Why does it even matter? What’re you gonna do, yell at them too?”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Yet.”

Jean presses his lips together tightly and stares at me. It makes me uncomfortable so I look at the curtains. They’re the same ones we’ve had since we moved into this house. Mom’s never changed them. I don’t even think we have any other curtains. It would probably be a good idea to buy some. But I’m not really bothered by the curtains. They’re okay, I guess-

“Eren.”

“Hm?” I look at Jean.

“I talked to your parents,” he says. “We agreed that you should go back to therapy.”

“Therapy,” I repeat, slowly, and nearly laugh. “Right, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Eren, knock it off." His voice is sharp. I swallow thickly and nod.

“Okay. So you’re gonna send me back.”

“That’s the plan, yes.”

“Good luck. Dad stopped paying, you know. That’s why I stopped going.”

“That’s okay. I already said I would.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” I ask, shooting up off of the couch.

“No,” Jean says simply. I shake my head.

“This is a fucking joke,” I try again.

“No,” he says, just as patiently as the first time. “I think you need help, Eren.”

“I’m fine,” I say. Jean just looks at me tiredly.

I know he can tell I’m not. I’m pretty sure anyone with eyes can. But I don’t want to go back. It’s not like I have anything against therapy. I know it helps tons of people and it’s a really great thing and all of that. But it’s just not right for _me_. Going to therapy means being honest. It only works if you're true to yourself and the therapist, but honesty isn't a strong point of mine.

“Okay,” he says, softly, and I feel drained all of a sudden.

I wait for him to say I’m grounded or something like that. I wait for him to give me a curfew or tell me I have to go straight home after school. He doesn’t, though. He just looks at me, and it takes me a few moments to realize that the sadness in his eyes is probably because of me.

I sit down again because I feel like I’ve gotten punched in the gut. I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat and my stomach twists uncomfortably. I feel short of breath and I don’t really know why.

“Okay,” I say, and my voice cracks halfway through the word. “Okay, whatever. I don’t care.”

Jean’s eyebrows pinch together but he doesn’t say anything. He stands up silently, gathering the blanket in his hands. He pauses when he reaches the couch, and I think he’s going to say something. He doesn’t, though, and it’s only when his bedroom door closes that I feel I can breathe again.

* * *

Monday, 9:18 am. I’m sitting in English, doodling idly on the inside cover of my notebook. I’m not much of an artist. To be honest, I can’t draw for shit. But pretending like I’m interested in the little scribbles on my notebook is a much better alternative to just staring at Mr. Smith until class starts.

The door opens and a few more students file in. I keep my attention focused on my drawing. I hear the sound of sneakers squeaking against the linoleum and ignore it. It’s been raining since I woke up this morning and I know the hallways will be a bitch to walk in.

A shadow falls over my desk. I don’t look up because I already know who it is. I wait for him to say anything, even if it’s just a greeting, but he doesn’t. I hear him sit down in his seat and begin to flip through his notebook. The tip of my pencil breaks off. I look at it in shock and realize how hard I’m gripping it. I let it fall to the desk and brush the broken tip off of my desk. I press the top of it so more lead comes out and sigh quietly.

The bell rings and I swallow the sour taste in my mouth. Mr. Smith’s lesson goes by at an excruciatingly slow pace. I don’t know if it’s because I’m bored out of my fucking mind or the eyes boring holes in the back of my head, but I find myself looking at the clock more than once. All I want is for class to end.

When it finally does, I shove my notebook into my bag and go to stand up. Levi quickly intercepts me and stand in front of me so that I can’t go around him. I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to speak.

“We should talk,” he says.

“We should?” I ask. It’s easier for me to play dumb. Playing dumb allows people to avoid confrontation. I’m a big fan of it even though it annoys the shit out of everyone.

“Yes,” Levi says calmly.

“Okay,” I say, brushing past him. I hear him following behind me. “Let’s talk.”

* * *

Levi and I meet up after gym class. I can feel Marco and few of the other guys giving us strange looks when we leave together, but I ignore them and lead Levi back outside to the field.

We end up pressed together behind the bleachers. It’s way too fucking cold to be out here, but it’s not like we really have much of an option. There’s really no place to be alone when you’re seventeen. If there aren’t parents, then there are teachers and friends and God knows who else.

I lean my head against the bleachers and feel the sudden urge to have a cigarette. I’ve never smoked in my entire life, partly because I hate the smell and partly because everyone romanticizes it to the point that it’s ridiculous. It’s not the actual act of smoking I want, but rather the idea of having something in my mouth. I can’t say anything stupid if I’m smoking. It gives me something to do rather than run my mouth. I say some really stupid stuff sometimes. I would be nice to stop, I guess.

Levi interrupts my train of thought by clearing his throat loudly. I look over at him and notice that his dark roots aren’t showing as much.

“You dyed your hair,” I say. He gives me a puzzled look. I gesture to his head. “Your roots aren't showing.”

Levi blinks at me slowly before he scoffs.

“You’re literally the only person who would point that out." He shakes his head. I shrug.

“It looks good. Blond kinda suits you.”

“I’ve been blond for a while, you know.”

“Yeah, but I still like it.” I shrug and stretch my legs out.

Levi stares at me for a while before he looks away. His hands are folded in his lap, and when I look closer I can see how much force he’s using to hold them together. I don’t know why, but I find myself reaching out to touch them. His fingers are icy cold, though I’m sure mine probably aren’t much better. I tug his fingers away from each other until his hands are resting loosely in his lap.

I don’t say anything and neither does he.

“I’m sorry.”

I turn to give him a confused look.

“About what?”

“About Friday. How I acted, I mean.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I can’t explain why I acted like that. So sorry.”

I chew the inside of my cheek and nod slowly.

“You don’t really have to apologize. But okay, I accept your apology.”

He presses his lips together and doesn’t respond right away. His eyebrows are furrowed and I watch him reach a hand up to rake through his hair. He does that a lot. I guess it’s a habit or something.

“It was really childish of me,” he says, carefully, and I get the distinct impression he wants to say something but doesn’t know how I’ll react.

“You want to ask something.”

“Well yes, I want to ask many things,” Levi says. “But you don’t seem to like answering anything.”

“I’ll answer it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I swear,” I say, leaning forward so I can look at him without making my neck uncomfortable. “I swear to God.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Fine, I swear on my life,” I say. I even hold my hand out so that we can shake on it. “I’ll let you ask whatever you want and I’ll give you actual answers.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He grabs my hand and shakes it briskly. “Anything, right?”

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

“Okay.” He nods and licks his lips once. “How old is he?”

“Nick?” I almost laugh, but then I decide that won’t go over well. “You seem to really like that question.”

“Fucking hell Eren-”

“What? I’m about to answer.” I roll my eyes at him and ignore the irritated glare he gives me. “Nick’s twenty four.”

“Twenty four?” Levi exclaims. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“No. I said I was gonna answer honestly,” I say slowly.

“Jesus Christ.” Levi shakes his head. He reminds me of Nick there, but I decide to keep that to myself. “Fine. Next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a friend of my sister’s,” I say. It’s not a lie.

Levi narrows his eyes.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She’s dead.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I said that thing about your mother. We’re even now.”

“What? I don’t remember that.”

“Never mind, then. Next.”

“Have you…I mean, are you…” Levi looks flustered now. I’m kind of amused. It’s unusual to see him flustered. He’s pretty much cool and collected most of the time. I make a mental note to embarrass him more often.

“Have we fucked?”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask,” he says, looking annoyed.

“Okay. Are we together?” I try again. Levi presses his lips together again and stays silent. “No, we’re not.”

He seems to relax at that. I stare at him for a few minutes before I scoff.

“Does that bother you?”

“What, that you’re together?”

“We’re not,” I repeat. “And no, I was talking about if me liking dick is a problem.”

“You basically said you’d sleep with me. I think we’ve established you like dick.”

“Hey now, I said I wanted to do you _until_ you opened your mouth. Meaning that’s off the table now. Don’t forget that part,” I remind him, grinning. Levi rolls his eyes.

“God you’re fucking crazy.”

“I try,” I say. I lie down flat on my back and stare up at the sky. It’s cloudy and grey and I wonder if it’s gonna rain again. The grass is wet and I can feel the moisture from it dampening my clothes. I close my eyes and let the cool air fan over my face.

“Okay. That’s all I have.”

I crack my eyes open to look at him. He’s staring off into the distance at something.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I say. “Don’t expect this to happen again. I only open up once a year.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, and there’s a strange quality to his voice that makes me lift my head up to get a better look at him. “What?”

“Nothing. So what’s your story?”

“What are you talking about?”

I shrug and lie back down.

“I’m just saying it’s not fair that you get to ask all the questions."

“This isn’t about me.”

“But it could be,” I say, arching an eyebrow. “Unless you’re so bland that you don’t even have any juicy stories.”

“Not all of us drink beer with twenty four year olds and sneak out every night.”

“Ooh, low blow buddy.”

“I’m not sorry.”

I grin and sit up, nudging his foot with my own. When he raises an eyebrow at me, I lean forward.

“It’s cool, you know. I can keep a secret.”

“I’m sure you can,” he hums, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He looks serene, totally at peace with the world.

I watch him for a while until he opens his eyes slowly.

“Three questions. That’s all you get.”

“Three? Are you serious?”

“Two, now.”

“Don’t be a dick, that doesn’t count,” I say, shoving him. He chuckles and looks at me.

“I asked you three so you can ask me three. Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Three questions, alright. I lean back and seriously think for a while. What exactly _did_ I want to know? I don’t know him well enough to question him about anything. We’ve never really talked about our personal lives or anything like that. Finally I think of something.

“Do you remember when I bumped into you on the street?” I ask. Levi furrows his eyebrows before he slowly nods.

“Was that when you scrapped your chin and you were bleeding all over the place?”

“Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, then yes,” he replies. “What about it?”

“Who gave you that hickey?” I ask.

“Hickey?”

“Yeah, you had a hickey,” I say. “I noticed it but didn’t say anything.”

“Seriously? That’s what you want to know? I thought I was off the table.”

“I’m not jealous, buddy. I just want to know.”

“Marco,” he finally responds. My eyes widen.

“Whoa, really? Marco’s like the least sexual person I know.”

“We didn’t sleep together!” Levi says quickly. He clears his throat and lowers his voice. “Reiner dared him. We were drunk.”

I nod, satisfied.

“Okay, question number two.”

“I’m ready.”

“What happened to your mom?”

Levi looks at me quickly. I stare back at him, waiting for him to say something. He clenches his jaw and looks down at the grass.

“What happened to your sister?”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t want to answer.”

“Okay,” I say, deciding not to press it. I feel like shit for even bringing it up. It’s clearly a touchy subject, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly. I feel like punching myself in the face but decide that’s not a good idea. “I think we’re done.”

Levi looks relieved. I chew my lip and shake my head.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.”

“It’s cool,” he says, but his voice is hard. He stands up and brushes off the back of his jeans. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m pretty sure my balls are frozen.”

I stand up slowly and rub my hands together to generate some warmth. Levi grabs his bag and slings it onto his back. I follow his example and walk a little bit behind him, trying to gauge how he's feeling. He looks okay, but I know better than anyone that people can always hide their true feelings.

I force myself to look away and shove my hands into my pockets, feeling more and more like crap with every step.

* * *

Tuesday, 2:23 pm.

I’m at my locker getting my stuff when I spot Bertolt down the hallway. He looks different and I can’t really tell why. Physically he looks the same as ever. He’s still tall and still looks like he kinda wants to pass out. But even from here I can tell there’s a different air about him, and I wonder if it has anything to do with quitting the football team.

I’m moving before I can stop myself.

“Hey,” I say casually.

Bertolt looks surprised to see me. He glances around before his eyes settle back onto me.

“Hi, Eren,” he says slowly. He slides a textbook into his bag and continues to give me that disbelieving look. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I say honestly. “I saw you and figured I should say hi.”

Bertolt closes his locker gently and looks at me.

“Levi told you, right?”

“He did,” I say.

“…Was he mad?”

“Not at you specifically,” I say quickly, noticing how tense Bertolt’s shoulders are. “He was just mad that he didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not like anyone could have,” Bertolt says, and I note the bitter tinge his voice has taken on. “I hid it well.”

“It’s okay, you know,” I say, reaching up to gently grab his shoulder. I squeeze it before letting go. “I’m proud of you.”

Bertolt looks down at me with an expression I can’t place before he laughs softly.

“You kind of inspired me.”

“I see that. I’m glad you took my advice,” I say. “Hey, you wanna go somewhere?”

“Go somewhere?” Bertolt repeats, his eyes wide. “You mean now?”

“Yeah. Unless you have plans?”

“I don’t,” he says. He pats his pockets. “I don’t have my car, though.”

“It’s cool. I like walking,” I say. I decide not to mention that sometimes I really hate cars.

Bertolt nods again and adjusts his book bag. We walk out of the building and down the street. It’s not raining today and the air feels a little warmer. I notice that the leaves are changing colors and find myself staring at them as I pass by.

“Do you know why I joined the team?” he asks softly. I barely hear what he’s saying.

“You did it for Reiner, right?” I ask. I vaguely remember him mentioning it.

Bertolt nods.

“He was the only friend I really had. I’m not very good at making friends. Our mothers were friends and that’s why we became friends. It kind of sucks, though.”

“Why?” I ask curiously. Bertolt shrugs.

“I didn’t meet him on my own. It was like we felt we _had_ to be friends because our moms were.”

“I don’t think it was like that,” I say. Bertolt shakes his head.

“Sometimes it feels like it. I’m sure you’ve noticed it, Eren. Reiner doesn’t really talk to me much. If it wasn’t for football I think he would have forgotten I existed.”

I feel my heart ache at his words. I felt bad for Bertolt. It had to suck to feel like Reiner would only care about him if he was right there in front of him.

“He’s kind of a douchebag.”

“You don’t like him.”

“Not much, no,” I admit. “He tries too fucking hard, you know? It’s like he has to act a certain way to fit in. That shit pisses me off. I hate it when people can’t act like how they really are.”

Bertolt looks thoughtful as he considers my words.

“I guess,” he says finally. “But you only see one side of him, Eren. He’s not like that. He can be nice.”

“Yeah, when he wants to get laid,” I snort. “I know you’ve see him work his magic on some poor, unsuspecting girl.”

Bertolt flinches and I pause for a second. For a second I think Bertolt’s upset because I’m basically shit talking Reiner to him, but then I realize that’s not it.

“Did you guys sleep together or something?” I ask. I want to take the question back as soon as I ask it.

Bertolt nods once.

“He was drunk,” he says. “We both were. There was a party at his house. We won a game against Trost and everyone was pumped up. And…well, I don’t know. It’s kinda hard to remember how it started. I woke up the next day naked and hung over and I figured it out pretty fast.”

“You have a thing for him,” I say softly. “Right?”

“Kind of. It was worse then. It was sophomore year. It’s gotten better, I think.”

“Does he remember?”

“I don’t know. I never asked him.” Bertolt swallows roughly. “We’re already not that close. I was afraid that if I said something he’d get mad or something. I didn’t want to lose him.”

I’m usually good at filing the silence, but I honestly I have no idea what to say.

“I used to be friends with Historia,” I find myself saying. “We were really close. We met in middle school and it was like we were inseparable.”

“What happened?” Bertolt asks.

“I got into drinking and sleeping around,” I say. “Historia wasn’t into all of that stuff. She wanted me to stop because she was afraid I would do something I would regret, especially because…well, let’s just say things weren’t looking so great for me. She kept trying to help but I kept pushing her away. She got tired of it, I guess. I see her around sometimes and it reminds me of how we used to be. But it’s too late for that now.”

I don’t know why I’m telling him all of this. Maybe I want him to realize that he’s not alone, that he _does_ have someone.

“Have you tried talking to her?” he asks. I shake my head.

“Nah. Kinda figured I’d just let it be, you know? I don’t want to hurt her more than I have.”

“I think she’d like it if you did,” he whispers. “Sometimes you have to take the initiative.”

I force myself not to scoff at his words.

“You’re starting to sound like me.”

He shrugs.

“You really helped me that night,” he says. “It was really hard, you know? I thought I loved him then. It sounds crazy because I was fifteen when it happened, and I spent two years telling myself I did. No one knows what love is at that age. You’re just a stupid kid.”

“Maybe so,” I mutter. “I think you can fall in love whenever you want, though. It’s your own feelings, you know? If you choose to label it as love then good for you, and if you don’t then that’s okay too.”

“I never thought of it like that,” he admits. “Everyone always kind of dismisses what you feel when you’re our age. I guess I did that to myself then. When I saw all those people and realized that none of them were there for me, that they were only there because of Reiner, it hurt like hell. I think that’s when I stopped telling myself I loved him. I mean, I still care for him and all of that. We’re always going to be friends. But I stopped romanticizing him that night. I don’t think I would’ve stopped if it wasn’t for you. So thank you. Seriously.”

I’m a little taken aback. I stare at him for a few moments before smiling.

“Of course.  I’ll help you whenever you need it, you know. Seriously.”

Bertolt seems surprised before he smiles back.

“I’ll do the same for you.”


	8. Eight: Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but writing the Levi chapters is really difficult for me for some reason. He just doesn't come as easily to me as Eren. Throughout this chapter I felt like it wasn't flowing the way I wanted to so I apologize if it seems off or something.
> 
> Sorry for such a long wait! I hope you all enjoy the chapter regardless.

On Sunday, my father calls.

He started calling four months ago. For my own sake, I pretend that it has nothing to do with Mom’s death. It’s just a coincidence that it all started then.

The thought does little to comfort me, though, and I can’t help but feel bitter. The only thing I know about my father is that his name is Michael and he’s married with a kid named Samuel, who’s ten. His wife hates me and the kid always clings to me when he sees me. I always feel drained after seeing them.

 Michael tells me he wants to see me and I ignore Samuel’s excited chatter in the background. I hear his wife’s voice, smooth like honey, and grit my teeth.

My hands shake the whole ride to his house. I have to pull over halfway through to collect myself. I press my head back against the seat and take deep breaths to calm myself. Once I feel less like I’m going to have a fucking panic attack, I continue driving.

Michael’s wife opens the door when I arrive. I’ve only seen her three times, so I’m sure it’s okay that I never bothered to remember her name.

“Hi,” I say, curtly, and peer over her shoulder into the house. “Is Michael around?” I don’t call him Dad. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a father.

“He’s in his office,” she says, just as curt.

I nod and step past her. I don’t bother taking off my shoes. They’re fucking rich, after all. It doesn’t matter if I get dirt on their pristine white carpets.

“Levi!”

Before I can move, arms are wrapped around my waist tightly. I stiffen in the hold around me, staring at the dark mass of hair buried into my stomach. I shift uncomfortably, but Samuel doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“Hey, kiddo,” I force myself to say. I squat down a little so that our faces are level. I ruffle his hair and smile tightly at him. “How are you?”

“Good-”

“Sammy? Why don’t you let your brother settle in first? You can talk to him all you want later,” Michael’s wife grips Samuel’s little shoulders and all but drags him away from me.

I resist the urge to correct her. Samuel’s my _half_ -brother. But I know Samuel will get hurt, so I press my lips together and stand up straight.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” I say, grinning at him. “I promise.”

Samuel’s pout doesn’t go away. I force myself to look away from it and climb the stairs silently. I poke my head into various doors. I’ve never seen my father’s office before. After a few more tries, I find it about halfway down the hall.

“Hey,” he looks away from his computer to shoot me a distracted smile. “You came.”

I shrug and linger in the doorway, my eyes landing on framed pictures of him and his… _family_. A bitter taste fills my mouth.

“You told me to,” I mutter. Michael shifts in his chair. It creaks and I look over at him.

“Oh, right,” he nods, gesturing to one of the plush chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

I sit down stiffly and slouch back, my legs stretched out in front of me.

“Samuel’s still kinda tiny,” I say conversationally. “Your wife still hates me. I guess the world is alright after all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on,” I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. “You didn’t call me here because you want to see me. You called me here because my mom’s dead and you’re trying to act like you give a shit.”

Michael gives me a level look.

“I’ve always cared.”

“Bullshit,” I snap, sitting back. The chair’s soft but somehow I feel so uncomfortable. “Bull-fucking- _shit_.”

“You sound like Kenny,” Michael says. The sound of typing fills the room. It infuriates me, but I chew the inside of my cheek.

“Fuck you. I’m nothing like him.”

“Why are you so angry, Levi?” Michael finally closes the lid of his laptop. He clasps his hands under his chin and looks at me. “Why are you acting like this?”

A lump forms in my throat. I swallow past it and try to act like my emotions haven’t gotten the best of me. It’s too late for that, though. Michael’s already seen enough.

“I’m not,” I say, flatly, and focus on my sneakers. “I’m good.”

“Alright,” he says. He clears his throat softly. “How are you handling everything?”

“Okay.”

“Did you go to therapy?”

“No.”

“The doctor said it would be good for you.”

“Doctor?” I look up at him at that. “How the fuck did you-”

“Kenny contacted me after…it.”

“The fuck for? We don’t have money for that shit,” I mutter. “Why’d he even call you? It’s not like you even cared. You jumped ship before I was even born. Why the fuck would he involve you?”

Michael shifts in his chair again.

“I’m still your father,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t ready then, Levi. I couldn’t-”

“You just didn’t want to father the baby of a whore,” I spit, shaking my head. “Why don't you just fucking _say_ it instead of pulling some lame excuse out of your ass?”

If I was in my right mind, I wouldn’t have been cursing so much. But I’m not, and it’s much easier for me to make it absolutely clear that I do _not_ want to be here than to pretend that everything’s perfectly fine.

“It’s not an excuse, Levi,” Michael sounds tired. I don’t even care. “That’s how I felt at the time. I was only twenty. I was still in college. I could barely make rent every month.”

“Mom couldn’t either,” I say. “We were always barely surviving. She lost clients because she looked so sick. Nobody wanted to fuck someone who was just bones and skin.”

I pause, sucking in a breath. I never talked about it to anyone, not even Kenny. But then again, we don’t exactly have the kind of relationship where we can share our feelings or whatever.

“You knew that, though…right? I mean, how well off can a prostitute be?”

“I wanted to help,” Michael says, sounding broken, and a tinge of triumph runs through me. “Your mother was proud, though. She wouldn’t accept any of it. I tried for so long. She blocked my number after a while and that was it.”

I shrug.

“It’s easy for you to feel bad,” I say. “Makes you feel less shitty, right? I bet you’d find any reason to justify leaving. Mom could’ve done the same, you know. She could’ve said she was too young and let me die. But she didn’t. She took responsibility. I guess that was too much for you to do.” I stand up then. There’s nothing more for me to say. I have no reason to stick around here. “Don’t call again,” I add. “I have no interest in seeing you anymore. Just stay away, okay? You’re good at that, after all.”

I don’t stick around to see his face. I try to ignore the shaking of my hands and make my way back downstairs. Samuel’s waiting at the bottom, rolling a tiny ball with his hands, and he looks up when he hears me.

“Are you done?” he cries, his eyes bright and wide. “Do you want to play now? I got a new video game and-”

“I don’t think so,” I whisper. A part of me wants to hate Samuel, considering how he’s had such a cushy life with a father that never left, but I can’t. He’s just a child. He’s innocent in all of this. My father’s the problem, after all.

“Levi,” Michael’s wife speaks up quietly. “Just for an hour. You can leave after that.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I mutter. I hear the stairs creaking and I know my father’s standing behind me.

“Just this one time,” Michael says. I don’t turn to look at him.

“Okay,” I mutter. Samuel’s practically vibrating in his spot from excitement.

“Really? Awesome!” he cries. He darts around me to race up the stairs. “We can go to my room!”

I follow after him sluggishly. Samuel pushes open the door to his room and hops up onto the big, plush bed.

“What kind of games do you like?” he asks. I shake my head.

“I don’t really play games,” I admit. Samuel blinks at me curiously.

“Why not?”

“It’s tough to with school and all,” I lie. I can’t tell him that I never had money to buy video games.

“Oh,” Samuel says. “What grade are you in?”

“Twelfth,” I say. “I’m going to start college next fall.”

“Wow,” Samuel looks impressed. I can’t resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair. He giggles and ducks away from my hand. “So you’re almost an adult, right?”

“Soon,” I say, nodding.

Samuel devotes himself to his game after that. He tries to hand me the controller a few times, but I shake my head. I don’t exactly have any desire to lose to a ten year old.

“Levi?” he asks after we’ve been sitting in a silence for a while. I look over at him.

“Hm?”

“Why doesn’t my mom like you?” he asks. He’s abandoned the game so that he can face me fully. I swallow thickly.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Your mom likes me.”

“I don’t think she does,” Samuel says, getting onto his knees. “When you leave she yells at Dad. They do that a lot.”

“Yell?” I ask. Samuel nods.

“It’s kinda scary. I told my friend and she said that when her parents yelled at each other a lot they got divorced. She moved because she had to go live with her mom.”

“Your parents aren’t getting divorced,” I say reassuringly. “They might get mad at each other, but they love each other.”

It hurts to say the words, but I have to push aside whatever I’m feeling for Samuel’s sake. He seems to calm down at that.

“Okay,” he says softly, looking at his hands.

“Samuel?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond. “Hey, Sammy. Look at me.”

He looks up.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, okay?” I say. “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s something they’ve gotta work out. The best thing you can do is keep your head up and don’t let it get to you.”

“Okay,” he says. He picks at a loose thread on his blanket. “Levi?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you live with us?” he asks. “You’re my brother, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I have my own family. I gotta stay with them so that they won’t get lonely.”

“Really?” he asks. I nod.

“Yeah. But if it was up to me, I’d love to live with you,” I say, smiling at him.

“We could play video games together,” he says.

“You betcha,” I say. “It would be fun.”

My smile begins to fade. Samuel looks into my eyes and frowns a bit.

“Levi,” he starts slowly. “I’m not gonna see you again, am I?”

“Huh?” I ask. He sinks in on himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a rush. “You were taking so long and I wanted to know why. So I went to get you and I heard you arguing with Dad.”

“Oh, Sammy,” I mumble softly. Tears fill his eyes and I suddenly feel like an asshole. “Sammy, I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Is my dad a bad person?” he asks quickly.

“No, buddy,” I say, swallowing thickly. “He just made a mistake, that’s all. He’s not a bad person.”

“Bad people do bad things, though,” he says.

“Good people do too,” I say. “That doesn’t mean anything, though.”

I reach up and brush his tears away with my thumbs. He presses his face into my hands and his whole body shakes as he sobs.

“Listen to me, okay?” I say. “Like you heard, I’m not gonna be coming back here anymore. But it’s not because of you or your dad or anyone, okay? It’s just something I have to do for myself.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he mumbles. “My parents don’t want another kid. Dad says one is enough, but I’m always so lonely.”

One kid, huh? I shake my head.

“But you have friends, right?”

“It’s not the same,” Samuel says. “When I go home my friends can’t come with me. It’s just me. Dad’s always busy and Mom never wants to spend time with me. I don’t have anyone.”

He leans forward and buries his head into my chest. I freeze in shock before I wrap my arms around him. I can feel his tears dampening my shirt and I feel helpless.

“Sammy?” I ask. “Are you listening?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I’ll come back for you,” I say. “One day, I’ll come back for you and we’ll get ice cream or something, alright? We’ll spend a whole day together. I’ll see you again.”

“Do you promise?” Samuel pulls back from our embrace.

“Yes,” I say honestly. 

“Pinky-promise?” he asks. He holds his little hand out to me.

“Pinky-promise,” I say, curling my finger around his.

“You can’t break it now,” he says, sniffling. “You have to come back.”

“I will,” I say. “You have my word, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers. I smile and wipe his face with the sleeve of my sweater.

“No more tears,” I mutter. “Everything’s alright.”

He nods rapidly.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. I shake my head.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. I stand up, the bed creaking as I do. “I have to go now.”

He doesn’t say anything as he follows me out of the room. Downstairs, Michael and his wife are watching TV. They both look up when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

“I have to get going,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Something came up.”

“Alright,” Michael stands to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No need,” I say, shaking my head. I walk towards the door, Samuel still following after me. I lean down to him. “Remember what I said, okay?”

“I will,” he says, and wraps his skinny arms around my waist again. I run my hand over his head soothingly before moving away.

“Bye,” I say, and never before in my life did the word sound so final.

I don’t look at Michael or his wife as I leave. They crowd by the door like some picture perfect family. If you were to put a white picket fence around the place, it would be like something out of a dream.

Samuel waves wildly to me as I get into my car. I avoid looking back at all costs and pull out of the driveway, my mind running wild. I pull off somewhere up the road and lean my head down against the steering wheel.

I think of Isabel and Farlan and don’t even try to stop myself. More than anything, I wish they were here. They would’ve helped me. Isabel would’ve come up with some elaborate, crazy plan to somehow stick it to my dad while Farlan would’ve reminded her that spending the rest of our days in jail really isn’t a good option for us. Then we probably would’ve gone to the movies or just sat and talked for a while.

It’s easy to pretend that I’m unaffected by our friendship ending. But honestly, it’s _not_. They saw me when I was a scared little kid. They saw me when I was struggling to stay upright because I hadn’t eaten in three days, but they never judged me. They didn’t care about what my mom did for a living. They didn’t care that I never had the newest video game or the best clothes. They just cared about _me_.

“Fuck,” I whisper, though it sounds much louder in my near silent car.

Suddenly, I realize something. I grip the steering wheel again and concentrate enough to get me to my destination in one while piece. I climb the porch steps and ring the doorbell, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

The door opens and it’s the same guy from before. Jean or something like that, I think. I force my best smile onto my face, the charming one that everyone loves, and try to pretend like I’m not falling apart at the seams.

“Is Eren home?”

“Should be,” he says, and I pick up on the tinge of bitterness in his voice. I decide not to question it. “Come in.”

I step up into the house and wipe my feet off onto the mat. Jean goes upstairs and I can hear a muffled conversation taking place. Eren goes down the stairs first, followed by Jean.

“Hey,” Eren says, looking a little surprised.

“Hey,” I say back. I look over at Jean. “We have a physics project to work on. I told Eren I wanted to meet before but I guess he forgot.”

I’m surprised at how easily the lie comes out. Jean narrows his eyes and glances at Eren, who’s looking at me in awe.

“Yeah,” he shakes his head quickly, looking apologetic. “Shit, sorry man.”

“It’s cool,” I say. I face Jean again. “If it’s okay with you, I’d prefer it if we went to the library. There are some books I want to check out. And I figured we could work more efficiently there.”

“Sure, I guess,” Jean mutters. His eyes land on Eren again. “Be back before dinner, alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Eren mutters dryly.

“I’m serious.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Eren grumbles. “Christ.”

Jean sighs softly and nods.

“Thank you,” I smile at him. “I’ll have him back before then.”

“Okay,” Jean replies. “Be safe.”

“Always am,” Eren chirps back.

We leave the house after that. I’m about to unlock the car when I notice Eren’s stopped on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets.

“I feel like walking,” he says. I narrow my eyes.

“It’s cold as shit and you want to _walk_?”

“It’s not snowing,” he says, as if that makes any sense. “Walking’s good, anyway.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, but I pocket my keys and walk anyway.

“We’re not going to the library, are we?” Eren asks, his lips curling into a smirk. “I gotta hand it to you. You were pretty smooth back there. Who knew you could be so convincing?”

“Oh please,” I mutter. “That wasn’t even that special.”

“It was something,” Eren says. “You gotta teach me your ways.”

I snort at that.

“Alright,” I say, just for the hell of it.

“So where are we going?” Eren asks. He nudges me with his arm when I don’t answer. “C’mon.”

“You hungry?” I ask instead.

“Uh, sure. I didn’t get time to eat lunch,” he says. “Thanks for that, by the way. My mom was going to make chicken alfredo.”

“Whoops,” I mutter, snickering. “You like Chinese, right?”

* * *

We end up at the same restaurant from before. Eren gets pork dumplings and I get sweet and sour chicken. We sit at my usual table and I wait for Eren to start eating before I do.

“So,” he says, chewing slowly. He sips from his Pepsi and looks at me. “What’s up?”

“Why do you think something’s up?” I ask, pretending to be interested in scooping mouthfuls of rice up to my mouth.

“You came to my house uninvited and now we’re eating Chinese food,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s kinda weird.”

“This is good food,” I say, meeting his eyes. “And I thought you enjoyed my company or whatever.”

“Sure,” he shrugs. I scowl that that.

“What do you mean _sure_?”

“Nothing,” he gives me a weird look. “Someone’s a little touchy, huh?”

“Sorry,” I mutter. I feel cranky all of a sudden. I push my rice around on my plate.

“Was it bad?”

“Huh?”

“Whatever happened, I mean,” Eren corrects himself. “Was it bad?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I just…I don’t know. I didn’t want to be alone.”

Eren’s eyes widen a bit. I sink down a little in my seat, watching his reactions. He shakes his head and begins to eat again.

“So you came and got me.”

“Yes.”

“Even though we’re not friends?” he’s smirking again. I frown and kick his leg.

“Yes.”

“Hm,” he hums thoughtfully. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I say quickly. “But I’m starting to regret it.”

Eren laughs heartily at that. I crack a smile that doesn’t feel too forced for once.

“I think you like me more than you let on,” he says confidently. “Why else would you seek out my companionship?”

“Give me a break,” I mutter dryly, rolling my eyes for effect.

“So,” Eren drawls out. “You gonna tell me what exactly went down or no?”

“I saw my dad,” I say. “I haven’t seen him in a while. I guess it brought up some feelings I haven’t thought about in a while.”

I don’t go into details. Eren doesn’t push for more.

“Dads have that effect on people,” he says.

“Yeah?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Mine tries to stay as uninvolved as possible. He only cares when it suits him.”

“Huh,” I say, scoffing. “That sounds familiar.”

Eren smirks and holds up his Pepsi can.

“To shitty dads,” he says.

“To shitty dads,” I echo, and clink my can against his. I take a sip and lean back in my seat. “I have a brother.”

“Brother?” he raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know.”

“He’s my half-brother, actually,” I say. “My dad’s kid with his new wife.”

“Ah,” Eren nods. “You don’t like him?”

“I don’t want to,” I say honestly. “But he’s just a kid. He didn’t do anything wrong. I told my dad I didn’t want to see him anymore and he heard. Got real upset about it.”

“What’d you do?”

“I told him I’d come back for him,” I say. “He wouldn’t stop crying and I felt so bad.”

“Did you mean it?” Eren asks.

“I think so,” I mutter. I run my fingers through my hair. “He told me he felt lonely all the time, Eren. He told me his parents didn’t give him enough attention and I… _fuck_ , I saw myself in him.”

“Shit,” Eren replies. “That’s rough.”

“I hated that,” I say. “It made me angry. He’s ten, for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t fucking feel like that.”

“You felt like you needed to help him, right?” Eren asks. “Even though you wanted to hate him, you didn’t want to hear him say things like that.”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing roughly. “I knew what it was like to feel like that. Before high school, I was nobody. I only had Isabel and Farlan. They made me feel like I mattered.”

“But now they’re gone,” he says understandingly. “And because they’re gone, you feel like how you did before.”

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “And honestly? It fucking _sucks_. But it’s my fault. So what reason do I have to feel like shit?”

“You’re wrong, you know,” Eren says. I narrow my eyes.

“What do you mean I’m wrong?” I ask. He shrugs.

“You’re not alone,” he says. “You’re surrounded by people all the time. Hell, look at your team. Those guys can’t function without you.”

“Well yeah,” I say. “But that’s not what I meant. I mean…look at us, for example. I could’ve called any one of them and told them I wanted to hang out or something. And odds are, they would’ve said yes.”

“So, again,” Eren leans forward a bit. “Why me?”

“You’re the only one that cares,” I say. “If I were to tell you I’m having a shitty day, you’re the only one who would make me talk about it. We’re friends, Eren.”

“I know,” he says smugly. I sit up straight.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I already knew that,” Eren snorts. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re a fucking dickhead,” I snarl. He nods serenely.

“I know. But can you blame me? I like having my ego stroked.”

“I fucking hate you,” I say. “You made me say all of that shit just so that you can feel good.”

“Whoops,” Eren says. “But seriously, I’m glad. People aren’t exactly falling over themselves to be friends with me. This is a welcome change.”

“Good,” I say, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. I feel drained all of a sudden. “You can’t leave.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t leave,” I repeat, looking at him. I don’t elaborate, but I know Eren understands what I mean.

“I’m not going to,” he says. “Who else is gonna buy me lunch then?”

“You gotta promise.”

“I promise,” Eren sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll even fucking pinky-swear.”

“You better,” I say. I hold my finger out to him. With a roll of his eyes, he circles his finger around mine.

“There. All better?”

“Yup,” I say. “Can we stop with the sappy shit now?”

“Thank God,” Eren mutters, snickering. “I was worried there for a sec. You didn’t seem like Levi.”

“Ha!” I say, and go back to eating.

As I eat, I think about Eren’s words. A sudden warmth fills me that I can’t exactly describe. Promises are such a fragile thing. They can easily be broken without a second thought. Hell, I’m sure I’ve broken my fair share of promises.

But a small, selfish part of me hopes that this is one promise that _won’t_ get broken.


	9. Nine: Eren

5:45 am, November 17th.

I’m sitting in my basement, my legs curled underneath me and my hands folded in my lap. It’s chilly down here, mostly because the heater’s not on, but I don’t have enough energy to get up and turn it on. So I sit there in my thin pajamas, staring at the canvas before me.

It’s blank except for an eye near the center of the canvas. It’s painted thickly in black. There’s a jar of paintbrushes beside the canvas. They’re stiff and still coated in paint, the bristles sticking up in odd angles. The jars of paints are all tightly closed, neatly lined up on the shelf.

It smells dusty down here. I figure it’s because no one has dared to clean it in a few years. There hasn’t been a need to. It’s not like anyone comes down here. One of the bulbs in the light fixture doesn’t work, and the room is a lot dimmer than I remember because of it. I don’t bother to tell myself to buy more bulbs.

I glance away from the light and look forward. My broken guitar is hidden somewhere behind one of the paintings Mikasa had stacked up against the wall. I stashed it there because there’s no way my parents will ever find it. I’ll throw it out eventually. I can barely see one of the broken strings sticking out from behind. I look away from the paintings and up at the table. There’s an empty pack of menthol cigarettes and the ashtray is still filled with cigarette butts. I should probably throw that stuff out too.

I try not to look at it, though. Looking at it causes a sharp pain to course throughout my body.

Every time I blink there’s a new prick of heat at the corners of my eyes. But no matter what, the tears won’t fall. I can’t tell if all the dust or the fact that my sister will never come down here again is making my eyes moist. I tell myself that it’s the dust because the thought of wanting to cry over Mikasa makes that strange pain go through my body again.

This room is the only indication that Mikasa ever existed. Her baby pictures were torn up by my mother in an angry fit, and her clothes and personal items had all been sold off to neighbors or stores or God-knows-who. I guess it’s kinda okay, though. Mikasa didn’t make any of those clothes or necklaces or sheets or whatever else she owned. Someone else made them and that how she got them. But these paintings are something she made, something that could never be replaced.

“…Eren?”

My head quickly shoots up at the soft voice. I turn around to see Jean behind me. He lingers awkwardly at the base of the stairs. His eyes widen when he takes note of my chattering teeth. I grit them together to stop them but it’s too late. He loosens the knot that’s holding his robe closed and quickly walks over to me.

“Jesus Christ, it’s freezing down here,” he says. He drapes the robe over my shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“It’s November 17th,” I say. Jean stiffens beside me.

“Eren…”

“This is the only thing left of her,” I say. I get onto my knees and shuffle forward until I’m close enough to the canvas that I can smell faint traces of paint. “This is all we have left, you know. Some stupid fucking paintings.”

I don’t think the paintings are stupid at all. Growing up, I had always admired Mikasa’s artistic abilities. Art and creativity were dirty words in my book, but Mikasa had always been good at that kind of stuff. That’s why she had been an art major in college.

“Hey,” Jean says softly. “C’mon, Eren. Let’s go.”

I don’t resist him as he grabs me around the arm and pulls me up. I let him direct me towards the stairs, my entire body feeling heavy. It’s like I’m being weighed down by some unforeseen force, and a part of me feels guilty for making Jean shoulder my weight.

“Get dressed,” he tells me once we reach my room. “Then we’ll go.”

“What about my parents?” I say.

“They’re still sleeping,” he says, looking towards their closed bedroom door. “I’m sure they’ll go later.”

I force myself to nod and enter the bathroom. After I take a shower, I go back into my room and get dressed into a black shirt and black slacks. I pull on my jacket. It's a blazer my mother bought me for the Sadie Hawkins dance I went to freshman year. It’s a little tight around the shoulders, but it’s not like I have much of a choice.

I meet Jean downstairs. He’s dressed similarly to how I am. He smiles at me but I don’t even attempt to smile back. The smile slowly fades from his face and I look away from him.

“Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter. I follow him out to the car and buckle myself in robotically. Jean notices and pauses, staring at me.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m fine,” I say. If this had been two years ago, I probably would’ve started crying. “Let’s just go.”

Jean nods slowly and turns the key into the ignition. The car rumbles to life and he carefully pulls out of the driveway. I pretend to not notice to white-knuckled grip he has on the steering wheel. He usually doesn’t drive like that. All uptight and stuff, I mean. But I guess today’s an exception to that.

I stare out of the window at all the houses. After a little bit, the houses start to blend into little stores and office buildings. I spot a flower shop and tell Jean to pull over. He does as I say, although he looks a little confused. I ignore him and step out of the car, digging into my pocket for my wallet.

I push open the door, the bells over my head jingling to announce my presence. The woman behind the counter seems surprised to see me. She glances back and forth between the door and me until I’m right up in front of the counter.

“We’re not exactly open yet,” she says slowly, staring at me warily. I realize that I must look like shit. I nod, raking my fingers through my hair.

“I know,” I say. “I just need three black dahlias. Please.”

The woman raises an eyebrow before the corners of her lips lift up into a smirk. I already know what she’s going to say. I’ve heard the correction so many times before.

“They’re not actually black-”

“They’re burgundy,” I finish, ignoring her surprised expression. My voice sounds small and far-away. I shake my head and clear my throat. “I…uh, know.”

“Okay,” the woman says simply. She opens the fridge behind her and pulls out three dahlias. I watch her wrap them and then tie a plain black ribbon around them. She slides them across the counter with a sad smile. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

My entire body aches when I hear those words.

“What?” I say, my voice sounding kinda choked. “How did you…” I trail off. She gestures towards my choice of clothing.

Ah, right.

 I nod jerkily, grabbing the dahlias. My hand crushes the stems and I flip open my wallet.

“How much?” I ask. When she doesn’t answer, I look up at the woman. She stares at me, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Ma’am? How much do I owe you-?”

“It’s alright,” the woman says. “I’m not open, remember? This isn’t business. Consider it a gift.”

I swallow thickly and try to smile as best as I can.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely.

She nods, smiles, and turns back to the newspaper she had been reading when I walked in. I turn and walk out of the shop, holding the dahlias tightly in my hand. I get back into the car and buckle myself up. Jean’s eyes land on the flowers but he doesn’t say anything.

“Ready?”

I nod and he pulls off. The next time we stop, it’s at our destination. I stare at the wrought-iron gates, a heavy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. I feel nauseous all of a sudden and I hope that I don’t actually puke.

I get out of the car. Jean stays inside, staring out at something in the distance. After a while, he gets out too. We walk in silence, the only sound between us being the crunch of gravel and dead leaves beneath our feet.

“We’re here,” I say unnecessarily once we stop walking.

“Yeah,” Jean’s voice cracks. He sinks down onto his knees, his fingers reaching out to trace the words craved into the headstone in front of us. “We are.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen my sister’s grave since the funeral. Jean, Mom, and Dad had come multiple times, but I always denied their invitations when they asked me. I didn’t want to see Mikasa’s headstone. It would just be yet another reminder that she’s dead and I’m…not.

I lean down and set the dahlias at the base of her headstone. Jean fingers a few of the soft petals, his lower lip quivering as he struggles not to cry. I sit down beside him, our shoulders pressing together, and stare at the headstone.

“It’s okay to cry,” I say. It’s meant to be comforting, but I’m really shitty at comforting people. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to make Jean any worse off than he already is.

“I know,” Jean says shakily. He sucks in a breath and bows his head, his hands tightly fisting his pants.

I look away from him and back at the headstone. It’s light enough outside that I can just barely see the reflection of our bodies. I swallow thickly and reach out to touch the stone. I can’t, though. My fingertips stop just short of it. I take a few staggered breaths and drop my hand back down onto my lap.

Jean’s entire body quakes as he cries silently. I sit there, numb, and barely manage to keep myself from falling apart.

“Dahlias were her favorite,” I say, just because I need to distract myself from my own thoughts, but it does little to help. If anything, I regret the words as soon as I say them.

Jean lifts his head slowly at that. His shoulders sag and his arms are limp by his sides. He stares at the dahlias blankly.

“I know,” he says hollowly. “We had them at the wedding. Black ones, I’m pretty sure-”

“They’re not black,” I say, my voice cracking. “They’re burgundy.”

“Right,” Jean whispers. “Burgundy dahlias, then.”

“Just like these, right?” I murmur.

“Just like these,” he breathes out.

* * *

2:52 pm, Nick’s apartment. Shortly after Jean dropped me off at school, I had come to realize that I wouldn’t be able to keep my shit together. So I hadn’t even bothered going to school and hung around in the library for a while. When I got tired of that, I gathered my shit up and took a bus to Nick’s apartment. He had let me inside without any snarky comment about how I was eating him out of his apartment. He knows what today is.

Nick’s sitting in the armchair, just watching me, and I’m pretending that I can’t see him. My blazer is abandoned on the back of the couch and the sleeves of my collared shirt are pushed up to my elbows. Nick’s apartment is freezing but it’s not like I can really feel the temperature. I’m just…well, _numb_.

“Eren.”

I look up. It’s the first word he’s said to me since I came here.

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice raw. I clear my throat and twist my fingers together absently.

“You should be in school,” Nick says firmly. He does that a lot as of recently. Trying to be firm, I mean. Nick’s usually pretty passive but he’s on this sort of authoritative kick suddenly.

“Right,” I say, but I just sink back further into the couch. I have a migraine and my entire body feels heavy. “I know.”

“So why are you-”

“I couldn’t fucking do it,” I say. “Usually I’m good at pretending that I’m fine. Usually I’m good at pretending like I don’t give a shit. But I couldn’t do that today. It was too hard for me.”

Nick’s jaw drops open. He closes it and presses his lips together.

“Eren, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” I mumble.

“I could have,” Nick says. He sounds guilty and I fucking hate it. “I could have-”

“If we’re playing the blame game I think I win,” I say, cutting him off. “It’s my fucking fault.”

Nick’s eyes widen.

“Eren, no, you didn’t-”

“It should’ve been me,” I say, my voice low. I’ve never voiced this out loud to anyone before. But I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it many times. “I should’ve died that night, Nick. I should be dead and Mikasa should-”

Nick’s suddenly standing over me, his chest heaving. It takes a few seconds for my brain to tell me that the throbbing in my cheek is because Nick just smacked me. I stare up at him slowly. His eyes are filled with tears, his face scrunched up like he’s about to cry.

“Don’t ever say that,” he whispers.

“Okay, Nick.”

“I’m serious!” He grabs me by my shoulders and sinks to his knees in front of me. “Don’t…don’t say that.”

“Okay,” I say again. I raise my hand up to wipe the tears off his face. “I won’t.”

“Okay,” Nick nods. I hold onto the sides of his face and he bows his head down to hide it from me. “Okay, good.”

“Nick?” I feel guilty now. I swallow thickly. “Nick, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He raises his head up to look at me. I slide off the couch so that my body is slotted in between his knees. “I’m okay. Seriously.”

I nod because I don’t know what to say. My head drops forward and I burrow my face into Nick’s shoulder, my hands fisting the fabric of tee-shirt in my hands. He digs his fingers into my back and leans over me, shakily exhaling into my hair.

“I can’t lose you,” Nick murmurs. I can practically hear the unspoken _too_ at the end.

“You won’t,” I say. I don’t pull back to look at him. I’m afraid that if I look at him, he’ll know that I’m unsure of what I’m saying to him. I don’t like making promises that I can’t keep. But if I have to, I like to make sure no one knows I’m lying. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Nick’s voice sounds defeated and I realize he’s figured me out. He’s always been good at that. There’s not much I can really hide from him.

We sit like that, just holding onto each other, until Nick lets go of me. I look up at him questioningly.

“You look tired,” he says. I shake my head.

“I’m fine,” I say. He raises an eyebrow. “Stop it. I’m being serious.”

“C’mon,” he says, tapping my hip. He stands up and offers his hand to me. I reluctantly grab it and use it to pull myself up.

“I’m not tired,” I try again. Nick ignores me and places his hand on my lower back to lead me to his room.

“You can sleep in here,” he says. I press myself against the doorframe, staring up at him.

“What about you?” I ask.

“I’m not tired,” he says, slightly mocking, and gives me a tiny smile. “It’s fine, really. So don’t worry, okay?”

“Jean…he, uh, he doesn’t know I skipped,” I say. “He stays at home now. If he doesn’t know where I am he’ll freak out.”

Normally, I don’t really care if Jean, or anyone for that matter, knows where I am. But today is the one exception to that. If I don’t tell Jean where I am, I’m pretty sure he’ll be even more worried than he usually is. Today is the one day I don’t want him to worry about me.

“I’ll call him,” Nick says, cutting off my thoughts.

My entire body stiffens.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s fine, Eren. Don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry?” I say, standing up straight. “You know how he gets and-”

“Stop. Worrying.”

I press my lips together tightly and fall silent. Once Nick gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to get him to let go of it. I’m able to recognize when I’ve lost. I nod and push myself off of the doorframe.

“Okay,” I say. I walk over to the bed and sit down heavily. “Whatever you say.”

Nick nods and stares at me.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks.

“I…” I feel childish all of a sudden. “Stay with me.”

Nick doesn’t look surprised by my request. He closes the door softly and crosses the room to sit on the other side of the bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice thick. “I…I need you.”

“Alright,” he whispers. He lies down slowly and looks over at me. I let myself fall back. Sluggishly, I scoot over to that my head is resting on his chest. He wraps his arms around me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and let my body relax. For the first time today, all of the tension in my body seems to disappear. I’m surprised at how quickly I find myself falling asleep. Just before I lose consciousness, I hear Nick whispering something in my ear. It’s too quiet for me to really make out what he’s saying, but knowing that he’s here causes a warm sensation to fill my chest.

Finally, I fall asleep.

* * *

When I wake up, I’m in my own bed at home. I blink up at the ceiling before I turn my head to look at the foot of my bed. Jean’s curled up there, one of my blankets wrapped around his shoulders. I kick his side lightly to wake him up. My room is dimly lit by the lamp on my nightstand. It’s bright enough for me to see that Jean’s eyes are open. I swallow thickly.

“Hey,” I say, my voice hoarse from disuse.

“Hey,” Jean mumbles back. He sits up and squints at the clock. “It’s late. You should go back to sleep. You have school tomorrow and-”

“Jean?”

He stops and looks at me again.

“What is it?”

“How did I end up here?” I ask. He sits up fully, the blanket dropping down to his waist.

“…Nick dropped you off,” he says. “Carried you up here and everything. He had a fit because I may or may not have started screaming at him.”

“Oh,” I say. There’s a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that I try to ignore.

“Why were you even with him, Eren?” Jean asks. I narrow my eyes. I know where this conversation is going.

“I needed to get away,” I say evenly. “I was feeling overwhelmed and I just needed some space.”

“You could have called me,” Jean says. He’s raising his voice and it’s instantly giving me a headache. I don’t think now is the time to tell him that, though, so I keep my mouth shut. “I would’ve picked you up from school.”

“I figured you were busy.”

“You don’t know that!” There it is. He’s finally yelling. I stare at him blankly and wait for him to add whatever he wants to. “If you asked, I would’ve come and-”

“It’s because it’s him, right?” I ask. “If it was anyone else you wouldn’t even give a fuck.”

“Yes, Eren, it’s because it’s him,” Jean says tiredly. He shakes his head. “Why? Why _him_ of all people?”

“He’s always been there for me,” I say, my voice small. I swallow thickly and stare down at my lap. “Nick takes care of me-”

“Oh, like he took care of Mikasa?” he snaps. “He does a real fucking good job of taking care of people, Eren. That’s why she’s dead!”

“Fuck you!” I snap, shoving him as hard as I can. It's not hard enough to make him fall off the bed or anything like that, but it's enough to satisfy me. “That wasn’t Nick’s fault, it was mine."

“You weren’t the one driving, God damn it!” Jean shouts back at me. “Stop fucking covering for him. You weren't the one in the wrong that night, Eren.  _He_ was. How long is it going to take for you to realize that?!"

I fall silent at that. My chest is heaving and I can feel my hands clenching with rage.

“…Get out.”

“Why, because I’m-”

“Get the fuck out!” I grab the first thing I find off my nightstand and throw it at him. “Get out!”

I keep repeating that over and over as I throw things at him. Jean swats whatever I toss at him and walks towards the door. He opens it and slams it shut, hard enough the rattle the doorframe, and I can hear him going downstairs. My mother’s voice floats up to me, high with panic, and I can hear Jean assuring her that everything’s alright.

Something wet falls onto my arm. I blink curiously and another wet spot forms. My eyes widen and I reach up to touch my cheeks. Sure enough, they come back shiny and wet when I pull them away. A few teardrops roll over my lips and I can taste the saltiness.

They’re my first tears in two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I rewrote this chapter three times until I finally settled on this version.
> 
> ~~Also I kinda ship Eren/Nick and I hate myself for it ~~~~~~


	10. Ten: Levi

It’s a quarter to twelve and I can’t sleep.

I have school tomorrow, so it’s not like I can just say awake until my body physically cannot stay upright anymore. I’ve got a killer headache and my mind’s screaming at me to get dressed and get the hell out of this house. I get up because I’m a fucking idiot who clearly doesn’t value sleep.

Fuck my life.

I slide a pair of clean jeans on and pull a sweater over my shirt. Kenny doesn’t care what I do with my life as long as I don’t fuck up his. I guess that’s why I can sneak out at much as I do. But I don’t, just because there’s really nothing for a seventeen year old to do at twelve in the morning other than get convenience store junk-food and walk around (which, honestly, _sucks_ ). Everyone always glorifies going out late, but there’s nothing cool about it at all. It’s boring as hell because it reminds you how lonely you are.

I make sure my house keys are secure in my pocket and make my way downstairs. I know I should put a jacket on, but then that would encourage me to stay out longer. I hope that the cold air will make my brain realize it’s a shitty idea to be out so late and I’ll come back home.

I’ve made this walk a thousand times but it never makes me feel any better. The thoughts that keep me up just plague me more intensely. Had my mother been around, she probably would’ve made me a cup of one of those herbal teas she always liked. I don’t have tea at my house anymore. Kenny only likes coffee.

I scowl and shove my hands into my pockets. The cold air is whipping against my cheeks and I already feel my nose start to get a little runny. I ignore it and continue walking, my eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of me. There are a few cars out on the street, but otherwise it’s nearly silent.

My mind brings up memories of my mother before I can stop them. I swallow thickly and try to distract myself. It doesn’t help, though, and I don’t even know why I keep trying. Distractions never help because I don’t want to be distracted. Trying to ignore all thoughts of my mother make me feel like I’m trying to erase her memory.

Kenny doesn’t talk about her anymore. I guess I can understand. I mean, she was his sister and all. I never had any siblings but I guess even I’d get choked up if Sammy died. Hell, I _know_ I would…even if I kinda wanted to hate him ever since I learned he existed.

It annoys me how people never want to talk about anything. Not talking about things just makes shit worse. All these feelings just fester up inside someone until that person bursts. People never understand why that happens. They say it just came up all of a sudden but that’s never true. It’s because it’s been held in for God knows how long.

I wonder when I’ll finally break. I never talk about shit, and I guess it’s hypocritical of me to condemn people who avoiding talking about stuff. But honestly, I think I have an excuse. I don’t want to burden people with my problems. Everyone has some sort of sob story. No one needs mine shoved down their throats.

“…Levi?”

I look up at the sound of my name. Historia stands before me and steps closer. I swallow thickly and try to look somewhat alright.

“Hey,” I say. “What are you doing out here?”

She raises an eyebrow as if she intends to ask me the same thing.

“Is everything okay?” she says instead. I raise an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re out here in barely anything,” she says, holding up a finger. “You look like you’re out of it, and I’m pretty sure you’re not the kind of guy who likes sneaking out.”

“I can’t sleep,” I say, and it sounds dumb once the words leave my lips. Historia doesn’t seem to care.

“Me neither,” she says softly. She gives me a gentle smile and I suddenly hear Reiner’s voice in my ear ranting about how she’s a fucking goddess. “Walk with me?”

“Sure,” I say, even though I honestly want to have my own little pity party.

“Great,” Historia walks a little ways ahead of me and I notice she’s clutching onto a bottle in a brown paper bag. I don’t question it and watch as she takes a slow sip. “Want some?”

“I don’t usually drink,” I say. Historia scoffs.

“Me neither,” she admits. “But sometimes I make exceptions for things.”

“Don’t we all?” I say, and she giggles. It’s a nice sound, and out of nowhere I find myself comparing it to Eren’s laugh. I shake the weird thought off and slide my hands deeper into my pockets.

“Do you mind if we go to the park?” she asks, looking up at me. “I kinda wanna go on the swings.”

“It’s cold,” I say, but I find myself following after her towards the playground.

Historia shrugs and smiles again.

“Alright,” she says softly.

We walk in silence to the park. Historia seats herself onto one of the rusted swing chairs, exhaling loudly. It creaks in protest at her added weight. I gingerly sit on the one next to her and hesitantly wrap my hands around the chains. I never really got the appeal of swings.

“So,” she says, playfully nudging my foot with one of hers. “What kind of things keep Mr. Levi Ackerman awake at night?”

“Well, you know,” I say, grinning and playing along. “The usual teen angst.”

“Ah,” Historia says, throwing her head back with an exaggerated laugh. “The struggles of youth, am I right?”

“Definitely,” I say. “What about you? I can’t imagine why the school’s resident goddess would be unable to sleep.”

“We all have our weaknesses Lev,” she says, causing me to wrinkle my nose at the nickname. “Nobody’s perfect in this cruel world. People are meant to be selfish, flawed beings. It’s in our nature.”

I find my eyebrows furrowing at Historia’s words. While they’re true words, I can’t imagine why someone would just randomly think of something like that before going to sleep. Did something happen to her?

I look at her. She’s staring at the rest of the playground with an unreadable expression on her face. I want to ask what happened, but I decide it’s not my place. I clear my throat, catching her attention.

“Alright Socrates,” I finally drawl out. “Let’s save the philosophical shit for a day when we’re both drunk, okay?”

“Okay, but seriously,” Historia says, twisting in her swing so that she’s facing me entirely. “You don’t really buy the shit about me being perfect, do you?”

“Do you buy the shit about _me_ being perfect?” I retort. Historia crinkles her brows.

“Alright, good point,” she says. She kicks at the mulch underneath our feet. “Why do people do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say stuff like that,” she elaborates. “Like I literally don’t look at someone and think hey, she’s perfect! People aren’t capable of being perfect.”

“Historia,” I say firmly, my eyebrows furrowing. “Did something happen?”

“What makes you think that?” she asks innocently. I scoff.

“Are you serious? I could make a whole fucking list right now.”

“I fucked up,” she says. Her eyes water and she takes a shaky breath. I instantly begin to panic. “Someone really needed me, you know. They were basically crying out for help. But I was selfish. I told myself it wasn’t my responsibility to fix them. I convinced myself that they just needed some time to get their shit together and it would be fine. And honestly? It’s not fine.”

I swallow thickly.

“You’re talking about Eren, right?” I ask tentatively. Historia looks at me blankly.

“You could tell, huh?”

“Well yes,” I say. “I remember you guys always being glued at the hip and all that. Then it suddenly just fell apart.”

“Sophomore year,” Historia sighs. “No one should’ve trusted tenth grade Historia. She was a selfish ass, you know.”

“Hey,” I say. “You weren’t.”

“You don’t even know what happened,” she asks, narrowing her eyes. Suddenly, she straightens up. “Or _do_ you?”

“We’re not exactly at the stage of our friendship where we spill our sad back stories,” I say. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Historia purses her lips and raises the bottle to her lips. She holds it out to me and this time I take it. The wine is one of those dry kinds that make me want to puke, but it’s something. I swallow and hand the bottle back. Historia tucks it between her thighs and wraps her hands around the swing chains.

“I’m so scared to talk to him,” Historia admits. “I don’t even know what I’d say. How do I apologize for that?”

“Maybe you should just do it,” I say. Historia hums.

“Maybe you should too,” she says. I raise an eyebrow.

“What? I’m pretty sure Eren and I are on a talking basis. But thanks for the advice-”

“I didn’t mean Eren,” Historia says, amused, and snorts. “You were close with Farlan and…”

“Isabel,” I say. I shrug. “Things just fell apart.”

“You got left behind,” Historia corrects. I narrow my eyes at her words.

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” she says. She takes another sip of the wine. “I _know_ you did. If it means anything I did too. I mean, look at Eren. He’s doing whatever the fuck he wants to do without me.”

“I…” I groan. “They’re fine without me.”

“But are you fine without them?” she asks. When I don’t answer, she smirks, triumphant. “We’re more alike than I thought, you know.”

“Guess so,” I mutter. Historia sighs.

“C’mon, Levi,” she says, shaking her head. “Drop the tough guy act. You’re fucking miserable, aren’t you?”

“Life goes on-”

“But you don’t want it to because you-”

“I’m fine!”

Historia’s eyes widen. I swallow roughly and rake my fingers through my hair. I drop my elbows down onto my thighs and lean forward.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Historia says, voice subdued, and I feel like a fucking prick.

“Things can’t go back to how they were before,” I say, staring down at my sneakers. “It doesn’t matter if I make up with them or whatever. There’s always going to be that reminder of what happened. I can’t ever change that.”

“Things don’t have to go back to being the same,” Historia says. “They just have to be better.”

“How can you make it better?” I ask. “Is that even possible when there’s nothing to salvage in the first place?”

“There’s always something there,” Historia says. “Relationships don’t always have a clean break. Someone always misses the other person a little more. As long as you have that, you can change things.”

I mull over her words, lightly swinging myself. I plant my feet flat against the ground and finally look up at her again. Historia’s still looking off at something in the distance, nowhere close to even looking at me, and I smile softly.

“Thanks,” I say.

Historia doesn’t say anything, but her lips quirk up at the corners.

* * *

I walk into school feeling like literal shit. My head’s pounding and I’m pretty sure one of my eyes is bloodshot. I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone, but some people don’t quite get the message (read: Eren fucking Jaeger).

“Damn son,” Eren smirks and gets right up in my face. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Is personal space a foreign concept to you?”

“I dunno,” Eren says, leaning closer and widening his eyes. “Does it seem like it?”

“Coffee breath,” I say, and reach up to shove his face away. Eren snorts and settles down in his seat.

“So,” he says, stretching the word out. “Wild night or something?”

“Hardly,” I say. I raise an eyebrow. “What about you? You’re exceptionally chipper today.”

“I realized that today is a beautiful day,” he says. “Honestly, Levi, you could really benefit from appreciating the little things in life.”

“Is that so?” I say, just to entertain him, and Eren grins brilliantly.

“Of course,” he says. “I’m not a doctor, but I am a dedicated reader of WebMD. I’m pretty sure realizing that the sun is such a wonderful shade of yellow will greatly improve your crabbiness.”

“Thanks for the tip, Doc,” I say. “I’ll be sure to incorporate an hour of sun appreciation into my morning routine.”

“Great,” Eren says, smiling so wide that corners of his eyes crinkle up. I find myself staring at them and unable to look away. “Now don’t say I never tried to help you.”

“Of course not,” I murmur, distracted. Eren’s smile slowly slips off his face.

“Uh…” He blinks a few times. “Is there something on my face?”

“Pain,” I deadpan, and shove his elbows off of the back of my desk. They hit the back of his chair with a solid _thunk_ and he gives me the stink eye as he rubs his arm.

“That hurt, asshole.”

“That was sort of the point,” I reply. “Now, honestly, why the fuck are there sunbeams shooting out of your ass? You normally would’ve sassed me at least ten times by now.”

“Ah, but there’s the keyword: _normally_ ,” he says. “Clearly, since you’re showing such an immense amount of concern for my mental state of mind, I’m not acting normal.”

“Clearly,” I agree. “So…?”

“That’s a story for another time,” he says. I narrow my eyes and he sighs. “This is my other coping mechanism. I’m either disgustingly optimistic or depressingly pessimistic. I don’t have an in between.”

“I can’t decide which one I prefer,” I mutter, causing Eren to laugh again.

“My pessimistic one shows up more,” he says. “I wouldn’t get too used to this one.”

“Well shit,” I murmur. “And here I thought there’d be an option for you to just sit there and not say anything.”

“Impossible,” Eren says instantly, as if to prove my point, and snorts. “People talk and I respond. I can’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Right,” I say with a scoff. “So we’re talking about this later?”

“Oh, definitely,” Eren says, and turns to face the front of the room when Mr. Smith stands to start the lesson.

* * *

After school, Eren and I sit in a Starbucks. He sips on an overpriced, overly sweet iced coffee while I straighten the napkin dispenser and glance around us. Most people are with their friends or taking advantage of the free wifi. I regret not charging my phone. It’s sitting somewhere at the bottom of my book bag. It's probably dead by now.

Eren sets his coffee down. He looks a hell of a lot less enthusiastic than earlier in the day. He plays with the napkin wrapped around his cup and glances up at me.

“You know what pisses me off?”

“I don’t know,” I say, half-teasing, just because I’m desperate to get some kind of smile out of Eren. “A lot of things seem to piss you off.”

My words don’t have their intended effect and Eren’s scowl deepens. I silently berate myself and clear my throat to try again.

“Alright,” I say, leaning back. “Tell me.”

“I hate the blame game,” Eren says. “It’s painfully obvious that Person A fucked up, and yet Person B has to take the rap for it. Isn’t that fucked up?”

“Very,” I say, and try to see how this relates to Eren. “You get blamed for something?”

“No,” Eren says. “I’m Person A.”

“And Person B is…?”

“Classified,” he smirks. I roll my eyes.

“Of fucking course,” I say. I clear my throat. “So I didn’t see you in gym yesterday. You skip or what?”

“Skipped,” Eren says. His shoulders tense suddenly and he seems very interested in finishing his drink. “Just didn’t feel like it.”

I narrow my eyes, having a hard time believing that.

“Okay,” I say simply, just because I don’t want to push him.

“Okay?” Eren echoes.

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “Unless you want me to push it and make both of us extremely uncomfortable.”

Eren winces.

“Yeah, don’t do that,” he shakes his head and slouches down in his seat, glancing up at me.

“But anyway,” I start, clearing my throat. “If Person A really did fuck up that badly, wouldn’t Person B be angry about it?”

“No,” Eren says. “Because Person B thinks they’re in the wrong.”

“So who’s actually wrong?” I ask softly.

Eren’s eyes briefly meet mine before he looks away. He mutters something under his breath to himself before he shakes his head.

“No one,” he says. “If I’m being completely honest, which seriously isn’t a strong point of mine, it’s no one’s fault.”

“So why do you keep blaming yourself?” I ask.

Eren swallows roughly and shakes his head.

“It’s so much easier,” he says. “And, honestly, I think it’s really my fault.”

“It can’t be,” I say. “If you’re both blaming yourselves, then it had to be a situation out of your control.”

Eren narrows his eyes.

“How do you know?” he asks. I shrug.

“Intuition,” I say, but I really mean experience.

“Intuition,” Eren echoes, softly, and scoffs. “Alright.”

I shrug again and run my fingers through my hair. Eren’s eyes follow the movement and I find myself staring at him. He grins and leans across the table.

“So what about you?” he asks. “Party too hard?”

“No,” I say with an eye roll. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Wow,” Eren says. “Somehow I was envisioning something far more scandalous.”

“I can tell,” I say. I shake my head. “It was just the usual shit. Nothing new or whatever.”

“Like what?” he asks. I narrow my eyes and Eren groans. “C’mon, man. We’re not doing any of that one-sided sharing shit.”

I roll my eyes and groan. Why does he always have to do this?

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m fully aware.”

I let my fingers play with the edge of the napkin holder again. Eren sips quietly at his drink and I groan out loud again.

“I just…sometimes I hate life,” I say. I furrow my eyebrows and begin picking at a piece of the napkin that’s sticking out. “Life just throws shitty things at you, you know? And just when you think there’s no way it can get any worse it just _does_.”

I stop myself abruptly. That had been far more than I intended to say. Eren’s eyes are firmly trained on me, though his mouth is slack on his straw. He moves the cup away and closes his mouth.

“I get that,” Eren says. He swirls his straw around in his cup and I wince at the loud scratching sound it makes. “Life’s a bitch like that.”

“I wish some things never happened,” I murmur. “But that’s all it is: wishful thinking. No matter what I do I can’t change the past.”

Eren winces and I worry that I’ve said something wrong.

“Eren?” I say. He doesn’t respond right away and I reach out to grab his arm.

Eren jerks back so suddenly that his chair scratches against the floor loudly. He gains the attention of the group of friends sitting next to us, but they quickly return back to their conversation. My eyebrows furrow and I watch as Eren rips his arm away from me. My hand lingers awkwardly in the air before I return it back to my side of the table.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice sounding forced. He stands up quickly. “Levi, I gotta go-”

“Huh?” I stand up. “Eren? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” he says quickly. “I…”

He doesn’t finish and just leaves. I watch him in shock, my blood rushing in my ears. My gaze returns back to his unfinished iced coffee. A drop of water rolls down the side of the cup and is instantly absorbed into the already damp napkin.

I sink down into my seat, confused.

“What…just happened?”

* * *

When Eren shows up to English, it’s like he completely forgot about what happened yesterday. I’m flabbergasted, but at the same time I doubt bringing up yesterday’s events will bode well with him. But I can’t pretend nothing happened. Besides, Eren’s always pressing me for answers. Can’t I do the same?

“Eren?”

“Hm?” he looks at me and I chew the inside of my cheek.

“What happened yesterday?” I say, and when Eren’s mouth opens I narrow my eyes. “Don’t you dare say it was nothing.”

“I just freaked,” Eren says.

“It was what I said though, right?” I ask. “Why did you just-”

“Look,” Eren says firmly. “Just drop it, okay? I’m cool now.”

“…What if I don’t want to?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. We stare at each other before I shake my head.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Eren doesn’t turn around right away.

“Okay,” he says.

I can’t help but to feel like I’ve just made things a hell of a lot worse. I sigh quietly to myself and force myself to focus on whatever Mr. Smith’s talking about. It’s a difficult task, considering how the source of my frustration is sitting in front of me, but I manage.

When the bell rings, I gather up my things and am about to leave when Eren steps in front of me.

“It wasn’t you,” he says softly, and the way he avoids eye contact makes whatever snarky comment that was on the tip of my tongue to disappear. “Sorry for just splitting like that.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

Eren looks up at me.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say.

Eren purses his lips. Then, he suddenly smirks.

“You’re too good to me,” he coos. “No wonder I had a thing for you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groan. “I’m pretty sure you just wanted someone new to fuck.”

Eren shrugs and turns on his heel.

“I can’t help it that you’re fuckable,” he says with a wink. I roll my eyes.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And yet you haven’t run for the hills yet.”

“I’m trying,” I say. “But you’re like a leech…a perverted, rude leech.”

“I prefer the term zesty life companion with a tendency to gravitate towards deviant behaviors.”

Eren smiles at me, the one where his eyes get all crinkly, and this weird feeling shoots throughout my body. He pauses when I stop abruptly, his eyebrows rising.

“Levi?”

“I’m fine,” I shake my head and force my feet to move. “C’mon, you’re gonna make me late.”

Eren snorts and starts walking again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I wanted to finish this story in 10 chapters lol


	11. Eleven: Eren

4:13 pm, my living room.

My parents are working and Jean’s out getting some last minute groceries. There’s a woman in my living room. I can’t see much from where I’m standing, but she has dark hair and fair skin. She looks up when she hears the stairs creak and stands up quickly, a brilliant smile on her face.

“Oh, you’re Eren, right?” she asks, walking towards me. She extends one of her delicate hands out to me. “I’m Mina, a friend of Jean’s.”

I blink at her hand and then look at her face. She’s pretty in a way, I guess.

“Hi,” I say shortly. I peer around the living room and look back at her. “He didn’t mention he was having company.”

I pretend to rearrange a few items on the side table. Mina stares at me and clears her throat a few times, but I ignore it.

“So, you his girlfriend or something?” I say, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. This odd feeling brews in my chest that I force down. So what if she is? Jean’s allowed to move on and all. It’s been two years. It’s not like he has to-

“It’s not like that,” Mina insists, the apples of her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’m actually here for you.”

“Me?” I say, raising an eyebrow. I cross my arms. “What for?”

“I’m a counselor,” she explains. “Jean told me a bit about you.”

I hum in acknowledgement and resist the urge to say something nasty. Mina’s just some poor, innocent soul caught in the middle. I’d be a douche to take it out on her.

“I guess he was serious about that,” I mutter, half to myself. “Look…”

“Mina,” she supplies.

“Yeah, I know,” I shake my head. “I’m fine, okay? Really. Jean’s a worrywart. You’re friends with him, right? You know how he gets.”

Mina shifts slightly before she narrows her eyes a fraction. Then her expression levels out. She reaches out to touch my arm and I flinch away from the touch. Her expression morphs to one of shock and I go back to messing with the bowl that holds everyone's keys so I don’t have to look at her.

“I guess so,” Mina replies slowly. “But I really think he has a valid point this time.”

“You don’t even know me,” I bite back. “How would you know? All you know is what he’s told you, right? That’s not worth shit.”

“You’re right,” Mina says, and it’s beginning to get on my nerves. How calm she is, I mean. Maybe I’m jealous she can keep her cool while I’m always flying off the handle like I have some fucking anger issues or whatever.

“Okay,” I say, because it’s a little weird she’s agreeing with me.

“But I can tell you’re hurting,” she says. “It doesn’t take a genius to see that. I want to help you. If I can even just take a little bit of the pain away, I think Jean will relax.”

“Jean doesn’t know how to relax. He’s been a cop for seven years. He’s gotta deal with people’s shit all day. There’s nothing relaxing about that.”

Mina laughs and I scowl in response. She smiles softly at me.

“Think about it, okay?” she says. She reaches into her pocket and produces a thin white card. “Call me if you change your mind. We can set something up.”

I take the card even though I have no intention of calling her.

“Thanks,” I say insincerely. “I have to get going.”

“Oh?” Mina raises her eyebrows. “Plans with a friend?”

“Something like that,” I mutter. I slide the card into the pocket of my jeans. “Thanks, though. Really.”

“Of course.”

She watches me as I put my sneakers on and grab my jacket. I make sure my phone is in my pocket and give Mina a curt nod as I exit the house. I pull my hoodie over my head and start walking.

* * *

5:01 pm, Nick’s apartment.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he fucks me, which I’m grateful for. Gentle means intimate, and intimate means some kind of commitment I don’t want. I sink my nails deeper into his back and ignore the hiss of pain he releases. He gets us off quickly and holds me against the wall, hands gripping tightly at my thighs until I shove at him.

Nick lets go of me and watches as I pull my pants up. My bangs are sweaty and pasted to my forehead. I brush them away and yank my hoodie off, too hot to keep it on. Nick goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water for me.

I take it and down about half of it before Nick speaks.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“Nothing,” I lie, because I’m not in the mood to talk. “Thanks for the fuck.”

Nick flinches but I ignore him. I make my way to the mirror in the hall and look at my face. I’m sweaty, obviously, but there’s something else there. I look away before I can see what exactly it is and lean against the wall for support.

Nick watches me and crosses his arms. I wait for him to tell me we should stop, that this isn’t right, that there are other ways to deal with this. But Nick doesn’t. He never does because he’s just as selfish as I am. Who cares if one of us gets hurt? Who cares if this is unhealthy as hell? It’s a temporary fix and that’s exactly what I need right now.

Nick sits down tentatively on the couch and continues to watch me. He’s acting like I’m about to explode any second or something, and I guess I can see why. I spot something white on the floor and I realize it’s Mina’s card. Nick gets a good look at it before I reach down and shove it back into my pocket.

“Oh,” Nick says suddenly, his eyes a little wide, and I shake my head.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he says, sounding a little testy, and I turn to face him. He mutters something under his breath.

“You wanna run that by me again?” I sneer. Nick rolls his eyes.

“I’m not getting into it with you right now,” he says.

“We’re already into it. Might as well just go all the way!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Nick groans, dropping his head back. “Maybe you should take it seriously.”

I blink at him.

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I am?” he asks. I swallow thickly and furrow my eyebrows.

I want to tell him that he's betraying me right now, that he's supposed to be on _my_ side, but instead I don’t answer him and Nick sighs softly.

“Jean cares about you,” Nick says. “You know that, right? If he didn’t you think he’d be going out of his way to get you help?”

“He just feels sorry for me,” I correct, my throat feeling dry, and I grip my water bottle tighter. “That’s what people do. They feel sorry for you and they try to help you, but that’s not because they care. It’s just because they want to look like a good person.”

“I feel sorry for you,” Nick murmurs. “But I care, you know. I’m not trying to look like a good person. It’s too late for that.”

I avoid looking at him. I don’t like where the conversation is heading. It's too...intimate.

“No,” I say firmly, squeezing my eyes shut. “Don’t do this.”

“Why?” he asks, standing. I shake my head when I hear his footsteps coming closer to me.

“Nick, I swear to fucking God,” I open my eyes and give him the harshest glare I’m capable of. “Don’t fucking do this.”

Nick looks defeated when he looks down at me. He’s got me crowded up against the wall, but once I speak he backs off slowly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and it sounds so broken that my heart actually fucking _hurts_.

“Whatever,” I shrug and grab my hoodie. “I gotta go-”

“Hey, Eren?”

“What?” I stop, my hand shoved through my sleeve. Nick has this unreadable expression on his face.

“Can you answer one question for me?”

I pause and stare at him for a few moments before I nod slowly.

“What is it?”

“…Why won’t you let people get near you?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why do you push away everyone who cares about you?”

I swallow roughly.

“Because I’m trying to protect them,” I grit out, and roughly shove my other arm into the sleeve. I zip my hoodie up and grab my jacket. “Anything else?”

Nick just stares at me. I scoff and chug down the rest of my water before I toss it into his garbage bin.

“Bye, Nick,” I say, but he doesn’t reply.

* * *

7:45 pm, Bertolt’s kitchen.

I don’t quite remember how Bertolt and I end up laying on our backs with a couple bottles of beer between us, but that’s how I find myself. I remember leaving Nick’s apartment, pissed at hell, and texting Bertolt. How that turned into drinking I don’t understand, but if someone offers me a free beer I’m gonna take it.

“You know,” I say, my words a little slurred.

“Hm?” Bertolt sounds half interested, too busy trying to peel off the label of the bottle. The cool tiles feel good against my overheated skin, and the faint thrum of music coming from the living room makes me feel less pissed than I had been when I showed up here.

“My sister had this thing against beer,” I say. The part of my brain that’s not muddled down screams at me to shut the fuck up right now, but I ignore it. “I mean, she hated all alcohol. But she smoked like a fucking chimney. I didn’t get it, but she said this thing to me before…”

“Before…?”

“Nothing,” I lie, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth. I sit up quickly, my blood pulsing and rushing all over the place. “I forgot. It’s been a while.”

Bertolt looks pretty sober when I look at him.

“Are you sure?” he asks tentatively.

Am I? I didn’t know. I shrug and pick the beer bottle up. My throat feels dry and it’s so bitter that I have to force myself to think I’m drinking something good just to swallow it. Bertolt watches me with rapt attention as I finish off the bottle and set it back down.

“Of course,” I say. It’s such a routine answer that I don’t even have to think about it anymore. Are you okay? Of course. Are you sure? Of course. So there’s nothing wrong, right? Of _fucking_ course.

Bertolt, though, doesn’t believe my bullshit. He raises his eyebrows in a way that almost makes me want to cave, but I’m good at this. Holding out until the bitter fucking end, I mean. It’s helpful when everyone around you is convinced you’re some kind of charity case.

“You’re not a very good liar,” Bertolt says.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insists, and pins me with a serious look.

I groan and ruffle the back of my hair. I still smell like sweat, but now I can add beer to my overall unflattering scent. Maybe I should bottle it or some shit like that-

“Eren?”

“You can’t judge me,” I say, pursing my lips. Bertolt looks surprised that I’m actually answering him.

“Okay,” he says slowly, like he isn’t quite sure what he’s agreeing to. I can’t blame him. “I’m not gonna judge you.”

“I don’t do relationships,” I say. “I just like hooking up, you know? There’s no harm in that. You just fuck them and leave. There’s no commitment. I don’t have a commitment issue or anything, I just…”

 “Are you scared or something?”

“I’m not scared of anything,” I say, but as soon as the words leave my lips I begin to wonder if I am.

Bertolt shakes his head and sits up, resting his chin on his knees.

“You have these walls up,” he begins, and I can almost hear Nick’s voice in my head saying something along those lines. “That’s why you’re always flying solo, right? You don’t like getting attached to people.”

I scoff and turn away, wishing I hadn’t polished off my beer so quickly.

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I snap. “What about you? What’s your deal?”

“Low-self esteem,” he says, a little too chipper, and I wonder if the beer’s getting to him. He doesn’t seem like much a drinker.

“For what?” I ask, shaking my head. “People worship the fucking ground you walk on.”

“Not really,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “That’s just when they want to use my house for a party. No one gives a fuck about _me_. Why do you think I was so surprised you even cared about my birthday?”

I scowl at the thought of that dreaded party. I can almost still feel my fist sailing straight into Reiner’s face.

“Fuck those people,” I snap, annoyed. “That’s fucking bullshit. No one has the right to use you for their benefit. That’s fucking-”

“Eren,” he cuts me off softly. I roll my eyes but shut up. “I got used to it. It doesn’t even bother me anymore. Honestly.”

I shake my head in response, clutching onto the fabric of my pants with a death grip.

“Fucking assholes,” I say, just because I can’t help myself, and Bertolt snorts.

“It’s not that bad,” he says, hugging his legs closer to his chest. “I mean, that means people pay attention to me, right?”

I blink slowly at him, not quite understanding why he’d want people to use him whenever the fuck they want to, but then it dawns on me. His parents don’t really give a shit about him. That’s gotta be why they’re always splitting and doing God knows what while he’s left alone with hired help. That’s no substitute for them, though, and Bertolt’s suffering because of it.

I feel nauseous at the revelation and lay back on the ground. The cold tiles chill my skin through my thin shirt, but it kinda makes me feel less like I’m about to blow chunks all across his pristine white floor.

“Shit, man,” I say, staring up at the ceiling. “Life really did a number on you, huh?”

“You too, right?” Bertolt asks. I can feel him looking at me but I keep staring straight ahead. The bright light kinda burns my eyes the longer I stare at it.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice quiet, “me too.”

* * *

1:25 pm, gym class.

It’s Friday so Mr. Zacharius lets us do whatever the fuck we want as long as we’re not sitting down. I decide to stroll around the perimeter of the gym rather than actually playing basketball or something. I’m not in the mood.

I sense someone next to me, and I’m surprised to see Levi walking alongside me. He gives me a small, lopsided grin when we lock eyes, causing me to raise an eyebrow.

“They’re playing football in the other gym, you know,” I say. Levi hums in acknowledgement.

“I play football every day after school,” he says with a snort. “You think I wanna play with some uncoordinated assholes that don’t even know how to play? Besides, it’s that flag football shit.”

“Ah, right,” I nod in understanding. “That’s weak compared to what you do, right?”

“Right,” he snickers. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Football’s finishing up anyway. We’ve got our big game against Trost today. Our last game of the season, actually.”

“Ooh,” I drawl, nudging him with my shoulder. “You excited? I mean, it's your last high school football game ever.”

“I guess,” Levi shrugs. “It’s actually my last game ever.”

“Huh?” I blink, slowly running his words through my mind again. “You’re not playing college football?”

Levi shakes his head.

“It’s not a career choice for me or anything,” he admits. “I honestly only joined just to have something to put on my resume.”

“Damn,” I whistle lowly, shaking my head. “But you’re good at it, right?”

“People seem to think so,” Levi says with another shrug. “I’m decent. People just care because I’m captain.”

“Right,” I say. “Do you know who your replacement is yet?”

“Not yet,” he says. “I’ve got a few people, but it’s Coach Dok’s decision. I’m sure he’ll pick someone great, though.”

“Of course,” I mutter. “But anyway, wow, good luck today.”

Levi looks thoughtful.

“You should come,” he says. I stare at him for a few seconds.

“You want me to come watch you?” I repeat, just to make sure I’m hearing right, and Levi nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “The guys want to throw some huge party after but I’m not feeling it. We could just hang out or whatever…unless you’re busy or something.”

“Nah, I’m free,” I say. I feel a little breathless and I don’t know why. “That sounds good, actually.”

“Really?” he looks a little surprised before he smiles again. He doesn’t really do it much and I wonder why. But I’m not exactly about to ask him that. “I’ve gotta stay here after school, so we’ll just meet up after the game.”

“Sure,” I shrug. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Cool,” he smirks at me. “Make sure you cheer for me.”

“Of course,” I reply, laughing.

* * *

8:03 pm, the football field.

I realize somewhere around halftime that I don’t really give a fuck about football. I consider leaving because I can’t feel my balls anymore and there’s really no point in staying. But then I remember Levi and I find myself digging my hands into my jacket pockets and pressing my legs together tightly to try and warm myself up.

I don’t really remember much of the game, considering how I spent most of it plotting ways to get the _hell_ outta there, but I guess the team plays well enough. It’s easy to see why Levi’s such an all-star, even though he doesn’t see it. Shinganshina beats Trost by a decent amount, though I didn’t bother paying attention to how much exactly.

I’m in the middle of stamping my feet to generate heat when I hear someone calling my name. Looking up, I spot Levi coming towards me. His hair is wet (either from sweat or water, though I hope it’s the latter) and he adjusts the bag on his shoulder when he gets near me.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say.

“Alright,” he jerks his head towards the exit, where a huge crowd of people is going through. “My car’s out front.”

I nod and ignore how my heart picks up speed at the mere mention of the word. Levi leads me out front and I follow after him sluggishly. I can feel my breathing start to pick up and I begin cursing under my breath. Levi stops by his car and turns to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you okay?” he asks slowly. I want to nod but my body won’t cooperate with me. I stand still and stare at him. He looks between the car and me before he nods. “Hey, we can walk.”

“It’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. Levi doesn’t look convinced and I think of something else to say. “I mean, it’s just a car. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not gonna ask,” Levi says, unlocking the car and tossing his bag in. He slams the door shut and arms it, causing me to raise my eyebrows. “It’s cool. Let’s walk. It’s not too cold anyway.”

I curl my hands into fists.

“We’re not walking.”

“Eren, seriously. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

He walks towards me and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He pauses once he’s almost halfway into the street, turning to look at me.

“C’mon,” he says.

I uncurl my fists and follow after him.

* * *

We end up getting frozen yogurt and walking around. It’s a calm night for a Friday. Not many people seem to be out. Not that it would have mattered anyway. It’s just…different.

I usually have a purpose when I go out, so it’s kind of weird to just be walking around aimlessly. I’m not trying to run away from something and I’m not trying to run _towards_ something. I’m just kinda there. It’s nice in a strange kind of way, I guess.

Levi eats his yogurt in silence while I push it around in my bowl. He glances over at me, eyebrows quirked up.

“You don’t like it,” he says, not even trying to make it sound like a question, and I scoff.

“I don’t understand why you could possibly want to _knowingly_ cheat yourself,” I say, pushing the yogurt around with my spoon. “I mean, it’s obvious this is fucking _yogurt_. We could have just gotten ice cream.”

“I’ve never had frozen yogurt,” he says, shaking his head. “I wanted the experience.”

“Well you got it,” I huff. “Cross it off your bucket list. I swear to God, why do I even trust your choice in food? I should just pick everything from now on.”

“Good idea,” Levi agrees. “Then I won’t have to see your passive aggressive glares.”

“Hah. Funny.”

He shrugs and dumps his empty container into a trash can when we pass by it. I quickly finish mine and toss it in, the taste lingering on my tongue. I run my tongue over my teeth to get rid of it and glance over at Levi. He quickly looks away and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket.

“So what’d you think?” he asks. I blink.

“Of the yogurt? I’m pretty sure we established this already. I got cheated of the pure goodness of ice cream all because you wanted the experience of some cheap imitation.”

“No,” he snorts, rolling his eyes. “I meant of the game.”

“Ah,” I nod. “Honestly, I was zoned out the entire time. But I saw you guys won. I’m sure Reiner will be thrilled to tell anyone who’ll listen on Monday.”

He snorts again.

“I’m sure he will,” he says.

“What’d you think?” I ask. He raises an eyebrow.

“Everyone did their part. I can’t complain,” he shrugs. “It felt kinda weird since it was our last game and all but…”

He trails off and I don’t push it.

“I wish Bertolt was there,” he says quietly. I swallow thickly and chew the inside of my cheek.

“He had to quit.”

“I know, Eren,” he shakes his head. “It just…sucks. He should’ve been out there celebrating with us. But because of fucking Reiner-”

“Hey,” I say, cutting him off. “There’s nothing you could have done. Bertolt had to make his own decision without anyone doing it for him. You should be proud he did.”

“I am,” Levi says. “I just wish things were different.”

“Different,” I echo, and wonder if I should tell him I wish things were different all the time. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Levi gives me an odd look before he looks down at his feet, exhaling slowly.

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention. “Remember how you said you wanted to change the past but you couldn’t?”

He nods slowly.

“What about it?” he asks. I shrug.

“That’s what made me freak,” I say. “I just never thought about it. I’m so stuck on the past that it hasn’t sunk in that I can’t do shit about it.”

Levi’s eyebrows furrow for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

“It’s hard,” he murmurs. “Every day, I wish I could have done something.”

“But there’s nothing to do, right?” I reply. “Because everything is over and done with and you just have to roll with whatever life decides to do to you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

We stare at each other before I force myself to look away.

“…I’m still kinda hungry,” I mutter. Levi snorts.

“C’mon, let’s go eat.”

He jerks his head towards the end of the street. I can faintly see the sign for some kind of deli, but I can’t even voice my opinion before Levi grabs my wrist and tugs me along. I stare at the sight of his hand wrapped around me before I grin stupidly and follow after him.


	12. Twelve: Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing [corporalmizuki](http://corporalmizuki.tumblr.com/) has made an absolutely fantastic [playlist](http://8tracks.com/cmdani/you-ve-got-daddy-issues) for this fic. They're such a great friend and I'm still in complete shock that they did this for me. The songs are so perfect for this fic and they chose songs that really fit the characters so please give it a listen!

Kenny’s got half a bottle of beer in his hand when I get home. He’s not drinking it. He’s just sitting there, slouched in the worn-out arm chair in the living room, staring. I grip the strap of my backpack and stand in the doorway.

Kenny’s head slumps forward and his chin hits his chest. I cross the room, fully aware I’m walking into dangerous territory, and wrench his fingers away from the bottle. He lets me take it and place it onto the side table.

“…Welcome home,” he croaks out, bringing his head back. I hold back a scoff and stare down at him.

“Don’t start with that shit now,” I mutter, reaching a hand up to card my fingers through my hair.

“Saw your game today,” he murmurs, the words drawn out and low, and I furrow my eyebrows.

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he says, still talking in that lazy kind of way, and makes a grab for his beer bottle again. I don’t try to stop him. “I never saw you play before.”

“I know,” I say, and cross my arms over my chest. “What about it-”

“You play well,” he cuts me off and takes a sip from his bottle. I narrow my eyes.

“Are you shitting me?”

“No,” he says, looking thoughtful.

“How’d you even know about the game? I don’t remember telling you anything.”

“Some of my coworkers have kids on the team,” he says.

I swallow thickly and look away from him.

“Hey, kid.”

I reluctantly glance back at him.

“Your mother would have been proud,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me or not.

“Why does it even matter?” I ask, turning away. “She’s dead.”

“Levi.”

“What now?” I face him again, this tight feeling forming in the middle of my chest. I can’t ignore it no matter how hard I try, and the longer I stand here the more it begins to hurt.

“Sorry,” he says.

I take a good look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and there are two empty bottles of beer laying by his feet. He looks like he’s five seconds from falling asleep. He looks… _pathetic_.

I don’t dare to tell him that, though. I don’t have a death wish. He’s not in his hostile drunk mode, and I’m sure as hell not gonna provoke him. If he wants to be all mopey and shit, I’m not gonna stop him.

“Okay,” I say simply. Kenny doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with his piercing eyes. “Cool.”

I leave him there, drunk and half-asleep, and I don’t feel anything.

* * *

True to Eren’s prediction, Reiner comes in on Monday and seems intent on making sure everyone and their grandmother knows we won our game. I try to tune him out, but it’s difficult when he’s three seats away from me and always talks like he’s got a fucking megaphone in front of his mouth.

“Is he seriously doing this right now?” Marco whispers from next to me. I snort and shake my head.

“You know how he is.”

“Guess so,” Marco shrugs and leans away, tapping the end of his pencil against his desk. “Hey, what happened to you on Friday? You split after the game or something?”

I swallow roughly and shrug, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Or something,” I mutter, low enough so that he can’t hear. I raise my voice again. “Why, you miss me or something?”

“Or something,” he mocks, grinning when I give him a surprised look.

“I just wasn’t feeling it,” I admit. “Partying and shit isn’t my thing. You know that.”

“I know,” Marco says, nodding solemnly. “Especially after that last party…”

“Ah, right,” I nod slowly. “Eren’s a little wild, I guess.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Marco says. “Hey, have you talked to him since then? I mean I know you invited him and everything but I figured you just felt bad for that whole locker room thing.”

“Uh, yeah, I have,” I shrug. “Hey, did you miss Bertolt at the game?”

Marco’s eyes narrow a little bit but he doesn't say anything about the sudden change of subject. I hold back a relieved sigh.

“Yeah, the whole night felt off,” Marco shakes his head again. “Nobody even mentioned him. Not even Reiner.”

“Well are you surprised?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “He’s… _Reiner_.”

“Right,” Marco says slowly.

Our calculus teacher comes in after that, so I turn my head and face forward. I can feel Marco looking at me and it’s annoying the shit out of me. But, luckily for me, Marco doesn’t push. He never does, and I guess I’m grateful for that now.

Still, when the bell rings at the end of class, I grab my books and basically book it out of there.

* * *

“Aw fuck!”

I’m in the middle of getting my lunch when some asshole bumps into me and spills something all the way down the back of my shirt. I grip the edges of my tray hard and turn around, prepared to curse the fucker out, but my words fall flat when I make eye contact with Farlan.

“Shit,” he mutters, low enough that I can barely hear it. “Hey, man, sorry about that. Guess I kinda got distracted.”

“Guess so,” I mutter. I haven’t talked to him in God knows how long. I’ve pretty much only talked to Isabel, but ever since she decided she didn’t give a shit anymore at Reiner’s party, I don’t talk to her either. And since Isabel won’t talk to me, neither will Farlan.

“I’ll go with you. To get a new shirt, I mean.”

“You sure? Won’t Isabel bite your head off for that?” I ask, just because I’m petty like that sometimes. And bitter too, honestly. But that’s not the point.

Farlan cracks a smile that looks foreign on his face. I realize that’s because it’s directed towards me. Normally, he and Isabel both look at me like they want to kill me. It’s… _weird_ to see him being so friendly. My heart aches and I try to distract myself from the feeling.

“She’ll live. C’mon.”

I shrug and make my way over to my table to set my tray down. Thomas is the only one sitting down, but he’s taking a nap and not even aware of my presence. I watch Farlan dump out his lunch and raise an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not really,” he says, and then shudders. “Those nachos look like a recipe for food poisoning anyway. Honestly, you did me a favor.”

“You’re the one who walked into me.”

“Ah, details,” he waves his hand dismissively.

I snort and check the rest of my clothes. My shirt is the only thing to get wet, thankfully. My shoes and pants are dry and I suppose I should be grateful for that.

“It’s not milk, right?” I ask hopefully. It doesn’t smell like it, but I don’t want to have a false sense of security. The last thing I need is to smell like spoiled milk for the rest of the day.

“Nah, orange juice. You’ll smell delightfully citrusy for the rest of the day.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No problem.”

We laugh and I revel in the familiarity of it. I’m so used to minutes of prolonged silence or Isabel’s biting remarks whenever we work together in English.

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention. “I’m sorry. You know, for the whole English thing. I guess it’s kinda weird for us to work together. But luckily Isabel made her stance on that abundantly clear and we won’t have to do that anymore. So-”

“She didn’t mean any of it,” Farlan says. I raise my eyebrows.

“You weren’t even there. I’m pretty sure she meant it.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. “I mean, she’s _Isabel_. All bark and no true bite. She says stuff just for the hell of saying it.”

I purse my lips and don’t answer. We reach the nurse’s office and explain the situation. She laughs a little bit but hands me a plain T-shirt to change into. I thank her and go into the bathroom to change, my soiled shirt balled up in my hand. I shove it into the plastic bag she gives me and thank her while she smiles and sends us off.

“Levi?”

I turn to look at him. Farlan sighs softly and rubs the back of his neck.

“What?”

“I…nevermind,” Farlan shakes his head. “Sorry about your shirt, again.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” I say, tucking my hands into my pockets. “I’ll see you, I guess.”

“Yeah, see you,” Farlan says.

I walk away and don’t turn around.

* * *

When I walk into the locker room, Eren and I make eye contact. I can’t decide if I should wave at him or not. Hell, I don't know if we're even at the stage of our friendship where we can do that. Do we just do a head nod? I don’t really know how it works. I've never had to put thought into things like this before. They had just come naturally, but I don't really know what to do when it comes to Eren.

Luckily for me, though, Eren gives me a crooked grin. I smile back, but it feels tight and I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. I head over to my locker and yank my clothes out before I duck into my usual stall.

My eyes involuntarily seek out Eren again when I finish changing. He’s in the middle of tugging on a pair of sweats when my eyes catch dark bruises on his thighs. My mind instantly goes blank, and I find myself standing still right in the middle of the locker room.

“Yo, Ackerman! Get your head outta your ass and move. I gotta piss.”

I barely react when Reiner nudges me not-so-gently out of his way. Franz snickers and Thomas mutters something I can’t really hear. Marco yells at them to shut up. Eren’s got his pants up by now and has turned around to see the commotion.

I keep my head down and go back to my locker, blindly shoving my clothes in without even bothering to fold them. I secure the lock in place and rest my hands against the locker for a few seconds. The cold feeling manages to distract me for a while. When Mr. Zacharias yells at us to head outside, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

“Hey, what was all of that about?”

Eren grabs my arm so that I look at him. I shake him off and avoid eye contact.

“Oh, that? Reiner’s just being dumb as usual. Nothing new.”

“Ah,” Eren laughs. “I guess we should all expect that by now, right?”

“Guess so,” I say. My head’s screaming at me to ask Eren about the bruises, but it’s not like it’s any of my business. What if he didn’t get hurt at all? What if he just…

The thought, although incomplete, causes me to freeze up again. Eren stops walking and looks over at me, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh…earth to Levi? We gotta go.”

“Yeah, I know,” I shake my head quickly and force my body back into motion.

Eren snorts quietly and gives me a weird look.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, just tired,” I shrug. “Had a long night.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow again. “I’m offended that you think I can’t tell when you’re bullshitting. You’re not even a good liar.”

“Fuck you,” I say, though it lacks any true heat. Eren rolls his eyes and nudges me roughly with his shoulder.

I press my lips together tightly and pretend I don’t feel it. He gives up after a few short moments, scoffing softly, and tucks his hands into his pockets.

We warm up and stretch before Mr. Zacharias splits us up for basketball. We play until there’s ten minutes left in class. Mr. Zacharias rushes us back into the locker room and we all get dressed in a hurry. The bell rings and I can hear the guys getting frantic. I roll my eyes and take my time putting my stuff away. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to drive to school, but luckily I do.

I’m about to leave when I pass by Eren. The bruises on his thigh are a stark comparison to the rest of his skin and I can’t look away. I stand there, transfixed, until he looks up. He’s got his jeans halfway up his legs and an eyebrow raised.

I avert my eyes and swallow thickly. Eren looks down at his legs and then back up at me.

“That bad, huh?” He doesn’t sound upset. I turn to give him a confused look.

“They look like they hurt,” I mutter. He shrugs.

“Nah. You kinda get used to them after a while.”

I feel sick to my stomach at that. I’ve never gotten used to seeing the bruises on my skin. They’re a constant reminder of my inability to fight back, of a weakness I pretend I _don’t_ posses, and I fucking hate that.

“You shouldn’t,” I say. “Get used to them, I mean. That’s…it’s not normal, you know?”

Eren pulls his pants up and starts laughing. My jaw drops open and I gawk at him, too shocked to really comprehend what’s going on.

“Nobody hurt me,” he says, shaking his head. “Seriously, I swear.”

“Really? Because it sure looks like someone did a number on you,” I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow, unamused.

“I got the bruises from sex,” he says, and smirks wolfishly. I feel the tips of my ears get hot. I swallow thickly and focus on the line of lockers beside me so I don’t have to see Eren’s face. I feel sick to my stomach again and I don’t know why. “No one beats me up or anything, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“That’s…cool,” I force myself to say, feeling a little like a dumbass.

“Yeah, sure, I guess.”

He doesn’t say anything else and I’m glad. Once I feel less like I want to throw myself off a fucking bridge, I look at him. He sighs softly and puts his lock back on.

“Thanks for your concern, though,” Eren says. “I swear I’ll tell someone if I ever get hurt or something.”

“Okay,” I say, and I kinda feel like a hypocrite. I should say something, right? I should probably tell someone that my uncle hits me when he gets pissed off, which is more often than not.

But maybe I don’t want to go through all the legal stuff. It had been hard enough to abandon the life I had with my mother and live in Kenny’s house. Michael’s my only other relative, but I’d take Kenny over the harsh reminder that my father, the man who helped make me, didn’t want anything to do with me.

“…Levi?”

Eren looks uncomfortable and I realize with a start that I’ve been staring at him while my mind wandered. I clear my throat and shake my head.

“Sorry, I’m good,” I say. “I’m glad you’re okay though.”

“Right,” Eren shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets. “I should get going. It’s kinda a long walk from here.”

I almost offer to drive him but then I stop myself.

“I could go with you,” I say instead, and Eren furrows his eyebrows.

“Don’t you have your car?”

“Well yeah,” I say, my chest feeling a little tight. “But it’s not like I haven’t left it here before. I’ll just go back for it or whatever.”

“That seems like too much work, doesn’t it?”

“I guess-”

“I’ll be fine,” Eren says, smiling a bit, but I can’t return the gesture. “I swear to God. I’ve made that walk a thousand times.”

“Right,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” Eren says. “See you.”

He walks past me and it isn’t until I hear the locker room door slam shut that I feel like I can breathe again.

* * *

Mr. Smith sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms, waiting for the bell to ring. Eren comes in as soon as it does, earning him a raised eyebrow. He brushes it off with a smirk and slides into the seat in front of me, placing his notebook and pencil on his desk.

My ears get warm again at the thought of our conversation yesterday. I chew the inside of my cheek until a metallic taste floods my mouth.

“As you all know, you’re required to write a ten page paper as a graduation requirement,” Mr. Smith says once everyone’s sitting down and quiet. “And considering how this is such a large assignment, I thought I’d give you all time to brainstorm a topic-”

“ _A_ topic?” Isabel asks, her hand raised into the air. I can practically see the gears turning in her head and I almost want to smile. She always loved writing, so it makes sense that she’s so excited now. “So does that mean _any_ topic?”

I look back at Farlan, who gives me a hesitant smile. I smile back and turn to the front of the room.

“Yes,” Mr. Smith laughs a bit. “All of the English teachers are given free rein to assign any kind of topic they want, but I figured it would be better if _you_ chose your own topic. It’s your paper, after all. If you’re going to write that much you might as well like what you’re writing about.”

“It’s not even December yet, though,” Eren says, leaning back in his seat so much that it creaks. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a little bit?”

“Maybe,” Mr. Smith says. “The more time the better, right? Especially for those who tend to procrastinate.”

Eren scoffs bitterly and I bite my lip to stifle my snort. It’d be a goddamn miracle if Eren does it, considering how he doesn’t do shit, but that’s not my problem.

“I’d like to see your brainstorms by Friday. It can be any topic, like I said, but please make sure it’s appropriate.”

There’s a chorus of mumbles. Mr. Smith slides off his desk and starts class after that. I jot down some half-assed notes and let my mind wander. What the hell would I ever write about? English isn’t my strongest subject, and essays are a waste of time for me. How the fuck am I supposed to go on about something for ten pages?

The bell interrupts my thoughts. I stifle a sigh of relief and pack my things up.

“Mr. Smith’s real generous, huh?” Eren asks, causing me to look at him. “Giving us free rein like that, I mean.”

“I guess,” I say with a shrug. “I kinda wish he’d assign us something, though. I don’t really know what to write about.”

“Ten pages is too much,” Eren narrows his eyes. “Who has time for that?”

I shrug and pretend to be interested in the posters on the wall. Eren twirls his pencil around and clears his throat.

“Hey, we’re cool, right?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, even though I feel awkward as fuck. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“You know, that whole thing yesterday,” Eren shrugs and shakes his head. “Sorry, you just seemed kinda freaked out. Sorta like you were gonna puke or something.”

“I was just surprised,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, and decide _not_ to tell him that puking is exactly what I felt like doing.

“Right,” Eren nods and shrugs again. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal.”

I have half a mind to tell him that any guy who leaves _those_ kinds of marks on him should have their dick cut off, but then I realize how that makes me sound like I’m not cool with this at all. Which I am, of course, considering how it’s none of my business who or how Eren decides to fuck.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting it and all. But hey, more power to you. For getting laid, I mean.”

I mentally curse to myself once the words leave my lips. I sound like a fucking idiot but my mouth keeps running and I can’t seem to stop it. Eren smirks and nudges me with his shoulder, turning to walk. I follow after him, suddenly remembering I have a class to get to.

“Thanks, I guess,” he says slowly.

I resist the urge to nod or open my mouth. I feel even more awkward than before. We just stare at each other and I find myself swallowing roughly.

“I should get going,” I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “I have to go to forensics.”

“Yeah, you should,” Eren says, but neither of us make a move to go.

The bell rings and I curse. I didn’t realize five minutes had passed already. Eren doesn’t seem fazed as he stares at the people beginning to sprint around us.

“Fuck,” I hiss, and turn away.

“Hey, Levi!”

I stop in my tracks and turn to look at Eren again. “What?”

“It didn’t…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Nothing. Sorry. Just go.”

I try not to think about how dismissive his words sound as I turn back around and book it to forensics. Ms. Zoe’s not in when I enter, so I sit in my seat and try to control my breathing. Marco turns around to give me a surprised look.

“You okay, dude?” he asks, moving his head around as if he’s trying to get a better look at my face. “You look a little out of it.”

“Out of it?” I echo, and think back to a few moments ago. What the hell was Eren trying to say? Why didn’t he just _say_ it? “Nah, I’m good.”

“Right,” Marco says slowly, like he doesn't believe me, but I don't even care. “Whatever you say, man.”

I nod and look over to the door as Ms. Zoe strides in. She puts on the film we started on Friday and I focus my attention on it, ignoring both Marco's concerned gaze and my mind's own attempt to keep bringing Eren up again and again.


	13. Thirteen: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to have this chapter up so soon but I got really inspired after writing the last chapter and I ended up finishing this chapter today. I actually really like this chapter so I hope you guys enjoy it too!

9:27 am, Saturday. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until the smell of bacon makes my stomach give a loud grumble. I groan quietly and pat at it in a useless attempt to silence it.

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I run my fingers through my hair and grapple about on the nightstand until my fingers reach my phone. The only notification I have is a text message from Nick. I scowl, delete it without bothering to read it, and slide my phone back onto my nightstand.

I grab a change of clothes and take a quick shower before heading downstairs. The bacon smell becomes more concentrated the closer I get to the kitchen. I poke my head around the doorframe and peer into the room. Jean has one of Mom’s aprons tied around his waist. He’s whistling happily as he flips another pancake.

“You’re like the perfect househusband.”

Jean jumps and turns around.

“I didn’t hear you coming.”

I shrug and slide into one of the kitchen chairs. I glance out of the window and look up at the sky.

“You think it’s gonna snow soon?” I ask. “I mean, it’s almost December.”

“Maybe,” Jean says, sliding a fresh pancake onto the already towering stack. “Hey, you wanna help me with this?”

I stand up and take the plate of pancakes from him. He sets the bottle of maple syrup and the plate of bacon onto the table.

“Do you want eggs?” he asks. I shake my head.

“Not really an egg kind of guy,” I say. I begin to serve myself and raise an eyebrow. “Oh, by the way, what’s with all of this? I thought you said you hated to cook.”

“There’s not much else to do,” he mumbles.

I chew the inside of my cheek.

“Your boss still won’t let you go back to work?”

“He said he’d call me,” Jean mutters. I chew a piece of my pancake slowly.

“Did you ever figure out the stuff you wanted to?”

“Huh?” Jean asks, confused, and I shrug.

“You told me you were staying with us ‘cause you needed to figure some stuff out.”

“Oh,” Jean stares at his plate for a while before he begins to eat again. He doesn’t say anything else and I go back to eating. “Eren?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what I said about Nick,” Jean says. He looks like he’s in physical pain but I appreciate the sentiment. “I know he’s your friend.”

“Was,” I say, bitterly, and Jean arches an eyebrow. “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

I decide it’s in my best interest not to tell Jean Nick and I sleep together whenever I decide I want to forget about whatever shitty thing life throws at me. Instead, I shrug and avoid answering his question.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Jean lets it go and I’m grateful. He doesn’t usually. Let it go, I mean. Lord knows he likes to push and push.

I scowl at the thought and shove another piece of my pancake into my mouth. They’re good. I’ve only had Jean’s cooking a handful of times, but it’s always been better than I thought. I’m not usually critical of food, though. Food is food, and as long as I’m full afterwards I could care less about how it tastes.

“Eren.”

“What?”

“You can tell me,” he leans across the table slightly and I pretend to be interested in the tablecloth so I don’t have to look at him. “What happened between you and Nick?”

“Nothing,” I say, firmly, and shove my half-eaten food away. “I’m not hungry. I’m gonna go for a walk.”

I push myself away from the table and ignore Jean’s tired sigh.

“Eren? Eren!”

I grab my jacket and my house keys and slam the front door shut behind me. I feel cranky and all I want to do is punch a wall. I’m not fond of punching things, especially since it does nothing but hurt me, but sometimes there’s something satisfying about the pain. It sounds sick, but I don’t really know how to explain it.

I shake my head and shove my hands into my pockets, the gravel in the driveway crunching beneath my feet with each step. Something rough digs into my fingers, and it takes me a few moments to realize that it’s Mina’s card. I guess I never took it out of my pocket. I try not to think about it and focus on my surroundings. It’s a little nippy outside, but the sun is out and my skin feels warm. I exhale softly, just to watch my breath cloud in front of me, and keep walking.

I don’t have a set destination in mind. I just keep walking and walking until I finally feel a dull ache in my calves and breathing gets a little hard. I glance around my surroundings and realize I’m in front of the library.

It’s not really my favorite place. Reading bores the hell out of me, but it’s quiet, and I guess I just need to sit down and think about some shit. I climb the steps and yank open the door. A blast of warm air hits me straight in the face.

I unzip my jacket and smile at the librarian. She smiles back before going back to her book. I ignore her and make my way back to the computers. I pick a random chair and sit down in it, tilting my head back and closing my eyes.

“Hey, buddy. You’re in my seat.”

My eyes stay closed as I answer.

“Oh, am I? Guess you’re gonna have to pick another seat.”

“And _I_ guess you’re gonna have to move.”

My eyes snap open. I have some choice words ready for whoever the fuck decided to ruin my peace and quiet when my eyes meet Isabel Magnolia’s. She looks pissed, which is kind of hilarious when I think about _why_ she’s pissed, and I can’t help but to think how fucking small this town is. 

“Isabel, right?” I ask, sitting up. She doesn’t answer and I scowl. “Your name’s Isabel, right?”

“Yes. I’d expect you’d know it, considering how we’ve had classes since the third grade.”

I whistle lowly.

“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“What?” she screws her face up and sighs. “Look, are you going to move or not?”

“No.”

“God, whatever,” she yanks the chair next to me out and sits down heavily. I hear her muttering something under her breath. I notice she has a thick packet next to her. I lean over to get a better look.

“Holy shit,” I say, grabbing the packet. “Is this your senior paper?”

“Hey, give it back!” Isabel reaches over and yanks it out of my hand before I can even read the first line.

“Sorry, sheesh,” I shake my head. “You must be really good at bullshitting.”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s ten fucking pages,” I shake my head. “Who in their right mind would want to go on about the same thing for _ten_ pages?”

Isabel arches an eyebrow.

“Books go on about the same thing for like three hundred pages.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t read,” I say with a shudder. Isabel starts to laugh but then cuts herself off and schools her expression into something blank. I smirk and nudge her with my arm. “Oh, c’mon. That was funny.”

“Sure, whatever,” Isabel opens up a blank Word document and begins to type. “I’m not good at bullshitting, by the way. I just like writing.”

“Good for you,” I say. “You’re good with words then, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Damn,” I shake my head. “All that stuff sounds like crap to me. I can barely write a paragraph without wanting to claw my own eyes out. And then all those grammar rules? Yeah, no thanks.”

“It’s not that bad,” Isabel says, sounding a touch offended, and I shrug.

“For someone who likes it, sure. But for me it’s like torture.”

Isabel shrugs.

“So what are you doing in a library, then?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” I shrug again. “It’s quiet. I feel like I can actually think.”

Isabel hums softly, still typing away.

“I can understand that,” she says. “It’s nice.”

“Sure,” I say, turning my attention back to the ceiling. “Hey, don’t you think it’s a little early to be working on your essay?”

“Maybe. I just know what I want to write. And Mr. Smith liked my brainstorm so I basically got the go ahead to write a rough draft.”

I hum but don’t say anything, drumming my fingers against my stomach. Isabel pauses in her typing and I lift my head to look at her.

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna do it?” she asks.

“Not a fan of writing.”

“But it’s a graduation requirement.”

“Good thing I’m not graduating, then,” I say, and I can’t help but wince when I hear how bitter I sound. “Shit. Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool,” Isabel raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not gonna do it?”

“What’s the point?”

“I don’t know,” Isabel says. “But maybe by doing it you’ll…I don’t know. Forget it.”

“Why do you even care?”

“I don’t,” Isabel furrows her eyebrows and turns back to the computer. “I’m just making conversation or whatever.”

“Right,” I say. I push myself back from the desk. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll think about it.”

Isabel gives me an unreadable expression. I get up and am about to leave when she reaches out and grabs my arm.

“Hey,” she says, her voice subdued, and I raise an eyebrow. “Good luck.”

I blink at her for a few seconds before I grin.

“Thanks. Seriously.”

Isabel rolls her eyes, but there’s the ghost of a smile on her face.

I walk towards the exit slowly, my hands naturally sliding into my pockets. I squeeze Mina’s card tightly before I pull it out. I have half a mind to just rip it up and forget I ever had it but I can’t.

I stare at her address for a few seconds. A strange feeling curls in the pit of my stomach. I swallow thickly and shove the card back into my pocket before I start walking again.

* * *

11:28 am, Mina’s house.

It’s small and nice, I guess. Everything’s either white or grey or this really light blue. It’s neat and there isn’t anything really personal around. No family pictures or stuff like that, I mean. The walls are bare except for some abstract shit that some pretentious asshole decided to label as art.

“Oh, hey,” Mina leans a hand against the doorframe. “Eren, right? Come in, come in.”

I nod and run my thumb over her card for what feels like the thousandth time.

“I didn’t know this was your house,” I say. She raises an eyebrow and I hold up the card. “I was expecting an actual office or something.”

“I feel like this makes people more comfortable,” she says with a smile. “Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she’s still smiling as she looks at me. “So what brings you here?”

“I want to give you back your card,” I say, and it’s only after the words have left my lips that I realize how utterly stupid that sounds. “I mean, I don’t plan on utilizing your services or anything. Plus what if someone actually needs help and you run out of cards or something? It’d be a waste to leave this with me and…”

I trail off, realizing that I’m sounding dumber and dumber as time goes on. I chew the inside of my cheek until a metallic taste floods my mouth. Mina hums softly and shakes her head.

“It’s okay, Eren,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with accepting help, you know. It doesn’t make you weak. In fact, I’d say it makes you incredibly strong.”

“Of course you would,” I say before I can stop myself. “You have a degree that allows you to say shit to people all the time for money. Your job is to make people believe whatever you tell them.”

“Maybe so,” Mina says quietly. “But my job is also to help people even if they think they don’t need it.”

“I really don’t need your help, though,” I say, taking a few steps back. “I just…I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why I’m here. Sorry for wasting your time or whatever. I’m gonna go-”

“Eren.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Mina says, and for a moment there I almost believe it. “I can’t even begin to fathom the pain you’re going through. But you can’t just ignore it. You won’t heal if you do that.”

I curl my hands into tight fists. It hurts my fingers, but it’s the only thing keeping me together.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Mina says. She places the card onto the side table. “Whatever you say, Eren.”

I don’t like the way she says it, but there isn’t anything else I want to say. My mind goes blank and I stumble backwards, my entire body feeling cold. I feel stiff as I leave Mina’s house.

It takes the slam of the front door to jar me out of my thoughts. I pause, halfway down the steps, and try to remember how to breathe normally. Once I feel somewhat normal, I keep walking.

I only make it halfway up the block before I feel like I’m gonna be sick for real. I force myself to sit down on the curb and rest my head in my hands. Everything fucking _hurts_ , and I find myself trying to decide if it’s my headache or my heartache that’s pissing me off more.

My brain supplies me an image of Mikasa and I decide it’s my heartache. I feel angry all of a sudden and I find myself lifting my head up. My sister’s dead. She’s dead and she’s never coming back. She’s dead and she left me behind.

They’re not comforting thoughts, not by a long shot, and yet again I have the fleeting thought of wishing I was dead instead. Logically, I know death isn’t a solution. Sure, I wouldn’t feel anything. Sure, all the shit life decides to throw at me would suddenly cease to be thrown at me. But then my parents wouldn’t have any children and Jean would probably be worse off than he is now.

But I’m selfish, and my brain wants to ignore everything logical just for my own sake. So what if they miss me? I’d be dead. Dead people can’t feel guilty. It’s not like any of it fucking _matters_.

My throat feels like there’s something clogging it and I clear it a few times to get rid of the sensation.

For a moment, I find myself wishing I was on talking terms with Nick. But it’s not like I would’ve gone to him. I’m not really in the mood for sex, and then there’s the whole shit with him having feelings for me.

I flex my fingers a few times. It’s cold enough that they’ve gone numb. I wish they’d stay like that sometimes, but I don’t feel human when that happens. I don’t feel like myself. It scares me, more than I’d like to admit, but there’s a certain appeal that comes with it.

I stand up then, partly because my ass hurts from sitting on the curb and partly because I’m sick of thinking. Thinking’s never gotten me anywhere good.

I stick my hands into my pockets and begin the walk home, trying my best not to think of anything. It doesn’t work, though, and by the time I get up to my room my mind’s running on autopilot. Nick, death, Mikasa. Nick, death, Mikasa. Over and over and _over_ again.

I yank my jacket off and kick my shoes into the corner of the room. I’m freezing even though the thermostat is turned up and I’m fully clothed. I sink down onto my bed and flop back. I try to think back to the last time I was able to pretend I was okay. Those had been the good days. I didn’t feel anything then because I had been too focused on being Eren Jaeger, the guy who just didn’t give a shit.

But now, I’m Eren Jaeger, the guy who just cares too fucking _much_ , and I hate it.

I curl myself into a ball and pull the blankets over my head. I hear movement outside my door, probably from my parents. I almost want to call my mom. She used to hug me when I’d get sad. When I was little, I mean. It’d be weird if I asked her now, though. Not because I’m seventeen or anything, but because I act like I hate everybody half the time.

I don’t, though. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, but it’s easier to be angry then admit I’m fucked up. Admitting there’s something wrong with me means I have to talk about it, and talking about it means I can’t keep pretending like I’m unaffected.

The footsteps go downstairs and I release a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to go to sleep. Sleeping’s one of my coping mechanisms too. I can’t ever feel anything when I’m sleeping.

There’s just… _nothing_.

* * *

8:49 pm, some random house.

I had heard through the grapevine that some kid in my grade was throwing a party tonight. Previous to today’s events, I had no intention of going. I usually only go if I know the host or at least a general idea of who’s going to be there, but I’m walking into this party with no fucking idea what to expect.

Something about Mina’s words grates on my nerves, and I try to ignore it. The way she talked made it seem like she actually felt bad or something, but that’s not possible. She hears about death all the time. You can’t feel bad for ever single client you have, right?

The idea of her pitying me makes me sick. I swallow past the bitter taste in my mouth and enter the house. The music is so loud that the room feels like it’s vibrating. There’s not many people inside. It seems pretty tame. Or maybe no one’s here because Reiner’s not throwing the party.

I frown at the thought of him and instantly make my way to the kitchen, ignoring everyone around me. It doesn’t matter if I see a familiar face or not. It’s not like they’d like to talk to me or something. No one ever does. Unless it’s Levi, but that’s because he’s fucking weird and we’re sorta friends. Or something like that.

I shake my head and peer into the kitchen. There’s only a line of beer bottles.

“Slim pickings, huh,” I mutter to myself, but I find myself moving forward and grabbing a bottle.

It occurs to me that my liver’s probably gonna be fucked up before I even reach twenty, but I can’t find it in myself to really care. Alcohol makes me feel numb. And sometimes that’s all I want.

I pop the cap off and take a slow sip. It tastes like shit. I hate alcohol, believe it not. But like I said, it doesn’t make me feel anything after a while. That’s the only good thing about it. I take another sip and lean against the counter, closing my eyes and drowning out the music blasting from the living room.

I don’t know how much time goes by, but suddenly I’m sitting on the ground. I’m not drinking anymore because my body feels all sluggish or whatever. I think I’m drunk. That hadn’t been the intention for tonight. I hadn’t even danced at all, which is weird because I make it a personal goal of mine to harmlessly grind against at least _one_ person.

I try to stand up, but my head spins violently and I just end up flat on my ass again. I’m perfectly content to sit there for a while, but then something spills on top of my head. I lift my head up as quickly as I can and squint at the figure looming over me.

“Oh man, sorry…wait, _Eren_?”

I blink a few times.

“Hi.”

“Uh, hi,” Marco sets his water bottle down and peers down at me. “Are you okay?”

“Maybe,” I say, and then I sniffle. When had my nose begun to run? I don’t know.

“You kinda look like shit.”

“I usually do, but thanks for pointing that out,” I say. I try to stand again and am successful. “What’d you spill on me, anyway?”

Marco glances at his water bottle, then at my head, and then back at the water bottle.

“…That’s not water, is it?”

“I already said sorry!”

“Whatever,” I shake my head. “I should head home anyway-”

I try to take another step forward, but then my head does that whole spinning thing again and I end up tripping. I manage to grab onto the edge of the counter to steady myself. Marco’s hands fly to my waist and I wiggle in his hold.

“Get off. I got it.”

“You can barely even walk,” Marco frowns. “Let me help you. You can’t go home with vodka all over you. At least go upstairs and wash up or something.”

“Oh, great idea. Let me just pull out a change of clothes from my fucking ass!”

Marco frowns and pinches my side violently.

“Ah! What the fuck?”

“Nothing,” he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Eren. Work with me here, okay? We’re friends, right? Friends trust each other. So I need you to trust me and do what I say, alright?”

“We’re not friends,” I say. I try to sound firm, but my words get all slurred and mashed together. I almost wince at the sound of my voice. Shit, how much _did_ I drink? “I don’t have friends. Not anymore. It’s ‘cause I’m an asshole. But…but Levi doesn’t seem to mind. Sometimes he’s an asshole. Maybe that’s why.”

Marco’s eyes widen a bit.

“Levi?” he echoes. “Are you and Levi friends?”

“That’s what he said,” I say. “I made him say it but…”

I trail off and lean over the counter, resting my arms against it. Marco lets go of me once he’s sure I’m not gonna fall down or something.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, mostly because it takes too much effort to say anything else. I lean my head down and close my eyes, my body swaying slightly. The counter is cold against my arms, and I realize that I must’ve taken my jacket off. God knows where I put it. But hey, at least my keys are in my pocket.

Marco doesn’t come back for a while. I decide to keep my eyes closed until he does, and I’m just about ready to fall asleep when someone grabs my arm.

“Hey, Eren. Get up.”

“Marco?”

“No.”

I force my eyes open and look up. Levi’s eyebrows are furrowed and he frowns.

“God, you stink.”

“Thanks,” I say. I get up slowly and am relieved when the room doesn’t decide to spin around. “Wait, why’re you here?”

“Marco called me,” he says. “Apparently you’re being difficult.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I’m not even drunk.”

“Uh-huh, _right_ ,” Levi shakes his head and loops one of my arms around his shoulders. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs.”

“Oh shit,” I say, my eyes widening. “Aren’t you gonna take a fella to dinner first?”

“Huh? What are you- oh _fuck_ no,” Levi shakes his head quickly. “Get your mind outta the gutter, Jaeger. You’re gonna clean up and get your act together.”

“Oh,” I say, and purposefully let my feet drag against the floor. “That’s not as fun.”

Levi doesn’t say anything and continues to move upstairs. Going up the stairs is a real adventure, but somehow we end up in an empty bathroom.

“Alright, strip,” Levi mutters.

“Huh?” I stare at him, narrowing my eyes. “Damn, are we going to third base?”

“No, you-” Levi cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You so fucking owe me for this.”

He reaches forward and gently pushes me to sit down on the closed toilet.

“Lift your arms.”

I do as he says, much like a complacent child. He yanks my shirt up and off.

“Oh,” I say. I reach down and try to unbutton my jeans, but my fingers keep sliding. “Help?”

Levi swallows thickly, glances down, and then looks away.

“I think you got it.”

“My hands keep sleeping. I mean, slipping. It’s too hard,” I say. It’s a real struggle to keep my eyes open now, too, and I’m sure that doesn’t help anything.

“Jesus Christ,” Levi mutters, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, he looks down at my pants and quickly unbuttons and unzips them. He helps me take them off. When I reach to take off my boxers, he slaps my hand away. “No! Leave those on.”

“Okay,” I say, because I’m too tired to say anything else.

“Stay there,” Levi says, and moves over to the tub to turn it on. He leaves his hand under the running water for a few moments until he deems it warm enough. “Get in.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

I ignore his irritated tone and force myself to stand. I yawn and stick my foot into the tub. It’s pleasantly warm, and Levi helps my other leg get over the ledge. I sit down heavily and wince at the pain blooming in my ass.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, ow,” Levi shakes his head. He leans over to look at some of the bottles on the ledge before he grabs one and squeezes a generous amount onto his hands. “Close your eyes.”

I close my eyes. A few seconds later, I feel fingers scrubbing roughly at my scalp. I scrunch my nose up at the feeling but don’t say anything. I hear the water being swished around and then squeeze my eyes shut even tighter when I feel soap suds running down my face.

Levi rinses my hair clean, combing through it with his fingers.

“I can do this myself,” I say.

“Give me a break. I’m pretty sure you don’t know your head from your ass right now.”

“Levi?”

“What?”

“Are we really not gonna fuck?” I ask, opening my eyes. Levi’s hands go still on my head.

“Why are you so hung up on that?” he asks, looking like he’s in physical pain.

“I like sex,” I say. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Levi rolls his eyes and yanks his fingers through a knot in my hair.

“Ow! Motherfucker.”

“You’re so fucking wasted,” Levi shakes his head.

“Yeah,” I say, because I’m at the point where I realize there’s no avoiding it. “Hey, what if I wasn’t drunk?”

“What are you talking about?” Levi asks, reaching over to grab the bottle of conditioner.

“I mean, would we fuck if I wasn’t drunk?” I ask. “Honestly, though, that shouldn’t matter. Being drunk, I mean. I’ve had drunk sex before.”

Levi’s hands go still again.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice having this strange edge to it. I look at him.

“I’ve had sex while drunk before,” I repeat, slower, because for some reason I feel like he didn’t hear me or something.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Levi swallows roughly and furrows his eyebrows. He leans away from me, his hands still covered in conditioner, and sits back on his heels. “That’s…people are taking advantage of you if they do that.”

“I don’t mind,” I say honestly. “I use people a lot too. I like drunk sex better than sober sex.”

Levi’s ears go red.

“W-Why?”

It takes me a few moments to realize that he’s just stuttered, but I ignore it for the time being. Hopefully sober Eren will remember it in the morning. I’d like to tease him about it later.

“Sometimes it makes me want to cry,” I say. “It hurts a lot, you know.”

“Sex?”

“Huh? No, not that,” I shake my head. I reach my hand up and place it against my chest, right above my heart. “It hurts a lot _here_. That’s why I have sex. It hurts in other places then.”

“Why…why does it make you want to cry?”

“I’m sad,” I say, my voice soft now. “I’m always sad. And if I cry when I’m drunk, no one cares. Drunk people cry all the time, you know.”

“Eren…” There’s a strange quality to his voice. I’ve never heard Levi say my name like that. I can't place it, but it causes my heart to seize up painfully in my chest.

“You never answered my question,” I say.

Levi reaches into the water to wash the conditioner off his hands. He cups them, fills the space with water, and then drops it over my head. He repeats this until the conditioner’s all rinsed out.

“What question?”

“Would we fuck if I wasn’t drunk?” I ask again. He stays silent and I tilt my head to the side. “I mean, don’t you like me?”

Levi reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks uncomfortable and I feel guilty all of a sudden.

“I…I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“I know,” I say. “You’re a good person. I wish I was like that.”

“You are,” Levi says slowly. I shake my head.

“Not really,” I say. “Hey, you like me, right?”

“Sure,” Levi says, his voice thick. “I like you, Eren.”

“I hope you don’t like me too much,” I say. I suddenly feel sleepy again. “I don’t take it well when people like me too much.”

Levi’s eyes widen.

“Okay, Eren,” he says simply. He stands up. “I’m gonna get you a new shirt.”

“Okay,” I say, leaning back against the tub.

Levi returns after a few moments with a t-shirt. I don’t know where he got it from, and I don’t exactly care either. He helps me out of the tub and towels me off carefully.

“You…uh, you shouldn’t wear those,” he points to my boxers. “They’ll make your pants wet.”

“I don’t have any other underwear,” I say, staring down at my boxers. “Are you telling me to go commando?”

“I’m taking you home,” Levi says. “It’s just for a little bit.”

“Okay,” I say, and hook my thumb into the waistband.

Levi turns around after shoving the shirt into my chest. I pull it on. It’s a little loose, but nothing too bad. I kick my wet boxers off and reach for my pants. I somehow manage to get them on, but I struggle with the button again.

“The button,” I say.

Levi turns around again.

“Can’t you…oh, never mind,” he shakes his head and buttons it. He reaches over to grab my soiled shirt and drops my underwear into it. He rolls it all into a ball and shoves it at me.

I watch him drain the tub and cross my arms over my chest. I’m cold all of a sudden, but at least I don’t feel as wasted. I take a few experimental steps and find I’m able to walk. I’ll have to take it slow, but it’s better than falling flat on my ass again.

“Levi?”

“What?” Levi looks at me, and I realize he looks tired. He sounds exhausted and I get that guilty feeling all over again.

“I don’t know,” I say, and it’s honestly not a lie.

Levi presses his lips together firmly and opens the bathroom door. I walk after him, wincing as my sock gets wet when I step in a puddle. Levi grabs my shoes and helps me back into then, tying them tightly.

We walk downstairs silently. I wait for him by the door as he goes to tell Marco he’s leaving.

“I don’t wanna drive,” I say. “I don’t like it.”

“I know,” Levi says. “We’re walking. Don’t worry.”

I hum and follow after him slowly. He keeps a hand curled around my arm, his grip tightening slightly every time I stumble a bit. He only relaxes once I’m standing straight again.

I don’t know how long we’ve been walking for, but after a while I see my house. I groan softly the closer we get to it.

“I don’t wanna go home,” I say.

“What?” Levi sighs. “Eren, you have to go home. It’s late.”

“It can’t be that late,” I mutter.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“The night is young.”

“The night is _not_ young,” Levi scowls. “C’mon, seriously.”

“No.”

I dig my feet into the sidewalk. Levi groans.

“Eren, seriously, you’re pissing me off and I-”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“…What?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat again. “You didn’t…you didn’t have to help me.”

“I wanted to,” Levi says.

“Okay,” I say, because I don’t really know what else to say.

Levi stares at me for a few seconds before he tugs on my arm gently. I walk without complaint and let him lead me up my porch steps.

“Here we are,” Levi murmurs. “Home sweet home.”

I lean against the door and watch as he lets go of me to slide his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I wish I could remember this,” I say.

“What, being drunk?” Levi snorts. “I’m pretty sure you’ll just do this again whenever you feel like it-”

“No,” I shake my head. “You.”

Levi’s mouth drops open a bit as he stares at me. He snaps it shut, clears his throat, and won’t look at me.

“I…I should go, Eren,” he says.

“Don’t.”

“I have to,” he swallows roughly and steps away from me. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” I say. “Goodnight.”

Levi pauses halfway down my driveway. It’s a little difficult to see him because the streetlamp by my house isn’t working for some reason. But then I see him shuffle his feet and begin to walk away again.

“Goodnight, Eren,” he says, almost too soft for me to hear, and a warm feeling washes over me as I turn to enter my house.


	14. Fourteen: Levi

I wake up with a crick in my neck. I sit up and roll my shoulders, yawning as I glance around my room. Sunlight is streaming in through the slats of my blinds and right into my eyes. I get up to close them, effectively shutting the light out, and drop myself back onto my bed.

I hadn’t had anything to drink last night, and yet I still feel vaguely hung over. I find myself wondering if Eren had somehow rubbed off on me and laugh at the thought. I stop halfway through, though, when I remember all the things he had said to me last night.

I run my fingers through my hair and groan, staring up at the ceiling. My room is too cold but I don’t feel like moving to get under the covers. It’s late, anyway. I should get up.

I don’t, though. I lay there for a little while longer, feeling strangely out of my own skin. It’s an odd sensation, and I find my thoughts straying to Eren again. He had been okay last night, right? He didn’t do anything stupid, right?

It’s honestly ridiculous. How much I care about his well being, I mean. But I find myself getting up. I just want to make sure he’s okay. He’ll probably have the worst hangover ever, but seeing him will help suppress the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach…hopefully. I take a quick shower and get dressed. Kenny’s watching something in the living room, and I don’t pay him any attention as I grab my keys and head out of the door.

"Where are you going?" he shouts out at me.

"Out," I say, and slam the door shut behind me.

* * *

Eren’s leaning against the doorway, eyes narrowed. He yawns loudly, not even bothering to cover his mouth, and ruffles the back of his hair.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough, and I wince at the sound.

“Good morning,” I say. My eyes unintentionally scan the length of his body and I find myself quickly looking away. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he says, nudging the door open wider with his hip. “Come in.”

I step inside cautiously, peering around his house.

“My parents aren’t home,” he says, and for whatever reason it makes my face feel all hot. I swallow thickly past the sudden lump in my throat.

“Uh…okay.”

“Want something to eat?”

“Nah,” I say, but then my stomach grumbles loudly. “Aw, fuck.”

“I’ll make you something,” Eren says, smirking, and disappears into the kitchen. I kick my sneakers off before I follow after him hesitantly.

I sit in one of the dining chairs and watch him tie an apron around his waist.

“Bacon and pancakes good for you?” he asks. I shrug.

“You can cook?”

“Basic things,” he says, cracking an egg over the side of a mixing bowl. I chew the inside of my cheek, feeling guilty.

“Are you sure this is okay? I mean, don’t you have a killer hangover or something?”

“I’m fine. I promise I won’t puke into the batter. Just sit there and shut up.”

I shut up.

I watch Eren cook the pancakes, leaning back in my seat. After a few minutes, he flips them onto the plate. He cooks the bacon and slides that on too before he grabs a bottle of water and puts them on the table before me. He takes the apron off and goes back into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

“Do you like syrup?” he asks, poking his head out past the door.

I nod and he hands me the bottle. I drizzle a generous amount onto my pancakes before I take a bite. I look at Eren and realize he doesn’t have anything in front of him.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” I ask, swallowing my mouthful. Eren raises an eyebrow.

“Bad idea.”

I roll my eyes and cut him a piece, aiming my fork towards his mouth.

“Open.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“An empty stomach makes it worse,” I say, ignoring the dubious look he gives me. “Trust me. C’mon.”

Eren opens his mouth and closes it around the end of my fork. My hand lingers awkwardly in the air, and he furrows his eyebrows a bit as he chews.

I swallow roughly and go back to eating.

“Thanks,” he says.

I nod and focus on finishing my food. Eren stretches his arms out across the table and rests his head on them, staring at me.

“What?” I ask, feeling a tad bit self-conscious, and he shrugs.

“Nothing. I’m just trying to remember what happened last night.”

I think of him in that bathtub and nearly choke on a piece of bacon.

“What do you remember?”

“I vaguely remember you washing my hair.”

“That’s it?” I ask, surprised, and he nods.

“I guess I was really shit-faced,” he says, sitting up, and tilts his head to the side a bit. “I didn’t say any weird shit, right?”

“Define weird shit,” I mutter before I can stop myself. Eren looks a little surprised and I shake my head, forcing out a laugh. “No worries. All of your deep, dark secrets are still safe.”

“Thank God,” Eren says. “I’d have to terminate this friendship otherwise.”

“Really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “After all this hard work we’ve put into it?”

Eren shrugs and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Shit happens, man,” he says. There’s silence for a while until he speaks again. “Why’d you come here?”

I chew the last of my pancake slowly, avoiding look at him.

“I just wanted to annoy you,” I lie. Eren scoffs.

“Of course,” he says. “I don’t remember if I said this yesterday but thanks. For taking care of me, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding, and decide not to add that I’d do it again and again if I had to. “I’ve never seen you drunk before.”

“Yeah? Don’t get used to it,” Eren winces and I laugh. “I’m laying off the booze for a while.”

“Oh well,” I shrug and grab my plate. “Thanks for the food.”

“You leaving?” Eren asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to bug you a little, that’s all.”

“Stay.”

“I…” My mind goes blank. “Aren’t you like tired or something?”

“Huh? No way,” Eren waves me off and stands up. “C’mon, we can go up to my room.”

“Y-Your room?”

“Yeah,” Eren takes the plate from my hand and goes into the kitchen to put it in the sink. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna jump your bones or something.”

I choke a little on my mouthful of water before I narrow my eyes at his back.

“You do realize you’re not _that_ hot, right?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “What makes you think I’d let you jump my bones?”

“Are you kidding me?” Eren asks, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “Dude, I’m fucking hot. Hell, I’m sexy! I’m a goddamn catch. You’d be crazy to _not_ let me jump you.”

“Alright, whatever,” I say, and I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m agreeing with him or something. That would just be awkward.

Eren smirks and wipes his hand with a dish towel.

“C’mon,” he says, leading me upstairs.

I follow after him, my heart racing in my chest. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. We’re just hanging out. It’s not that big of a deal. I repeat this to myself over and over until I feel less like I’m gonna pass out.

Eren’s room looks like a hurricane went through it. It’d be nice, I guess, if there weren’t various clothes all over the floor. His desk is clean, though, and I’m relieved to see all his books and papers are in a neat pile.

I raise my eyebrows when I see one of the books. I walk towards the desk and pick it up without thinking.

“You play guitar?” I ask.

Eren goes stiff and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong.

“Nah,” he says. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” I say, and set the book back down.

I watch him as he grabs all the dirty clothes and drops them in the laundry basket. It looks cleaner now, and I slide my hands into my pockets out of reflex.

“So…”

“Wanna watch a movie?” Eren asks. I nod. “Cool.”

He turns on the television and opens up Netflix. I stand there awkwardly until we both decide to watch _The Godfather_. I’ve never seen it and Eren swears it’s amazing.

I sit down on his desk chair. It’s hard and not entirely that comfortable. Eren lays on his stomach, a pillow wedged between his arms, and raises his eyebrows.

“You can sit over here, you know. That chair is really fucking uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. My heart’s racing again and I try to act cool as I sit down on Eren’s bed.

It’s pretty comfortable and I find myself relaxing. Then Eren grabs my arm and yanks me down.

“What the fuck?!”

“Relax, dude,” Eren says, seemingly amused, and I feel the tips of my ears get hot. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

I decide not to tell him that’s exactly what I feel like doing. I rearrange myself so I’m lying on my stomach too. Eren tells me little things about the plot but I’m not even paying attention to the movie. I’m more interested in the way he seems to get overly excited when one of his favorite scenes comes on.

I don’t know if he realizes I’m staring at him or not, but it’s not like I’m gonna admit to it. I don’t even know why I’m doing it, to be honest.

“Eren,” I say, when we’re about an hour into the movie.

“Hm?” he asks, turning to look at me.

“I lied.”

“Lied?” Eren echoes, sitting up a bit. “About what?”

“You did say some weird shit to me.”

“Oh,” Eren blinks. “Sorry, I guess.”

“Did you mean any of it?”

“I don’t remember, Levi,” Eren says. “I was drunk, you know?”

I swallow thickly.

“I think you meant it.”

Eren narrows his eyes and pauses the movie.

“What’d I say?”

“You talked a lot about sex,” I say.

“I usually talk about sex. Remember when I said I wanted to do you-”

“Not like that!”

“Okay,” Eren says, and he sounds a lot calmer than I thought he’d be. “What’d I say?”

“You said you had sex because it was a distraction. Well something along those lines anyway,” I say. A small voice in the back of my head asks me why I’m bringing this all up.

I want to know why. I want to know why he’s in so much pain. I want to know what happened to him. I want to help him.

I want to _do_ something.

Maybe I won’t do something for me. Maybe I’ll just let Kenny keep beating the shit out of me. But maybe if I help Eren, I’ll feel like I’m doing something right. Maybe I won’t feel so weak. It’s a dumb thought, but I’m willing to see what happens.

“I said that to you?” Eren says, and sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

“So?” I ask softly. “Do you? Have sex ‘cause of that, I mean.”

“I do,” Eren says, and I feel the air leave my lungs in a rush.

“Does it…does it mean anything?” I ask, and there’s this intense, throbbing pain in my chest. I feel short of breath all of a sudden and I don’t know why.

“No,” Eren says, giving me a strange look. “It never does.”

I roll onto my back so I’m staring at the ceiling and not his face.

“So…it’s like a coping mechanism?”

Eren laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, something like that,” he replies. “Why are you asking, Levi?”

“I never expected you to say something like that,” I say. “I just…I don’t know, I just thought you were really into sex or something. I never thought that-”

“It’s cool.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Eren shrugs. “It’s fine. Not really a big deal, you know?”

“It is,” I say, and decide not to say it’s a big deal to _me_. “I mean…shit, man, I’ve seen the bruises. That’s fucking…”

I trail off, unsure of what to say. Eren looks at me.

“I want them to hurt me.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel something,” he mutters. “It’s stupid, but it works. It’s a temporary fix but it’s _something_ , you know?”

"But still," I insist, sitting up. "That's really fucked up. You're letting them hurt you and-"

"Again," Eren says, still speaking in that infuriatingly calm tone. I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood. "I  _want_ it to hurt. I like seeing the bruises. It makes me realize I felt something."

I shake my head but don't say anything. Not at first, at least. I try to process what he's telling me, but it's too much. It's way too fucking  _much_.

"Okay," I say, because my head's throbbing and I can't think of anything else to say.

"They only do that because I  _let_ them," Eren says again, firmer, and I meet his eyes. "I'd never let them hurt me if I didn't want it. You get that...right?"

“Yeah,” I say, even thought I don’t really get it. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Okay,” Eren says slowly. “Anything else?”

I think over my next words carefully, trying to figure out exactly what it is I want to say to him. I’ve gotten this far. I might as well just say it all.

“Um…you told me not to like you too much.”

“That means exactly what it sounds like.”

“I know, I just…that’s not an issue. I mean, I don’t think so.”

Eren rests his head on his hand.

“Do you? Like me too much, I mean.”

“No,” I say, but the word feels wrong. I ignore the strange feeling curling in the pit of my stomach. “Of course not.”

“Okay,” Eren says. “That’s good.”

There’s silence between us for a while.

“Nick does.”

“Nick?” I repeat, and I think of his friend. I don’t know why, but he had rubbed me the wrong way. I don’t know if it’s because he’s twenty four or what, but I can’t really stand him. It’s ridiculous, considering how I’ve only met the guy one time, but I can’t help it.

“Yeah. You met him, remember?”

I scowl.

“Vaguely,” I say.

“He likes me too much,” Eren says, his voice low, and my stomach churns violently. I find myself grinding my teeth. “I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

“You’re avoiding him?” I ask. “You two seemed pretty close, though.”

“I guess,” Eren says, playing with the tie of his sweats. “I mean…it’s weird.”

“Him liking you?”

“Kinda,” Eren scrunches his nose. “I’m not really into the whole relationship thing, you know?”

“I kinda figured,” I say. Eren shrugs again.

“He’ll probably get over it or whatever. I just…I don’t want to go there with him.”

“Is it that bad, though?” I mutter. “Someone liking you or whatever, I mean.”

“Probably not,” Eren admits softly. “It just scares the shit out of me.”

“Why?” I ask, turning my head to get a better look at him. Eren shrugs his shoulders again and looks down at the ground.

“I dunno. It just does.”

I take that as my cue to back off.

“Okay,” I say simply.

“That’s probably why I said that to you,” Eren says, looking back up at me. “I don’t want that to happen to us, you know?”

“No worries,” I say. “I’m not into you.”

Eren laughs, but it sounds a little forced.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, because suddenly my entire body hurts and talking takes a lot of effort. “Yeah, whatever.”

Eren reaches for the remote.

“Wanna finish the movie?”

“Sure, Eren,” I say, softly, and Eren presses play.

* * *

Eren doesn’t bring up Saturday or Sunday again and neither do I.

We’ve talked it all out anyway, so there’s no point in bringing it up again.

My brain doesn’t get the memo, though.

I don’t get why I even care so much. Eren’s allowed to have sex whenever he wants, with whoever he wants, for whatever reason he wants. But the idea of him being with someone else makes my head hurt. It hurts even more when I remember him telling me Nick has a thing for him. Did they ever…

No. Eren said they didn’t. He wouldn’t lie about that. There wouldn’t be a reason to lie anyway. I don’t care if they have. It’s none of my business. The only thing that makes me uncomfortable is the fact that Nick’s twenty four. But, again, it’s not any of my business.

It’s easy to say that. That I shouldn’t care, I mean. But the fact of the matter is that I do. I care more than I should, and the realization is a little terrifying. I’m not used to this. I let people do whatever they hell they want as long as it doesn’t affect me. I could care less.

But for some reason, I feel like this _does_ affect me. It’s not like I’m supposed to care about what Eren does. We haven’t really been friends for me to care this much, but I can’t stop myself. I never thought he was hurting that badly before. I thought all the sarcasm and coping mechanisms and whatever else he did was just for the hell of it. I never in a thousand years could’ve imagined it was all just a ruse. Some stupid, dumb cover.

I guess it makes sense, though. People don’t usually want others to see them vulnerable. That’s just how people are. It’s a dirty word. Weaknesses, I mean. That’s why people get so defensive about them. That’s why they’re always hidden. Eren’s no different than every other person on this planet in that aspect. He probably never wanted me to know that stuff, but I do. It doesn’t make me feel happy he’s comfortable with me or anything like that, though.

It scares me.

It scares me because I’ve never felt this concerned before. I’ve seen people hurt before, obviously. Take Bertolt, for example. I cared about what he was going through, obviously, but I didn’t obsess over it. I talked to him and that was it.

Things aren’t like that with Eren, though. I find myself hanging onto the little things he says, the things he says when he’s opening up to me or just talking for the hell of it. It’s frightening because it’s new and I’ve never done anything like that with someone before.

It crosses my mind, then, that I might fall into the dangerous _too much_ category. That thought is the most frightening of them all. I don’t want to like Eren too much. I don’t want to cross that line. But I don’t think my head, or my heart, for that matter, care.

I think of my mom suddenly, and it makes me feel a little sick. She liked my dad too much, right?  That didn’t get her anywhere but six feet under, though. My dad moved on and started a new family and my mom pined after him until her last dying breath.

I know not every relationship is like my parents. I know people love each other and nothing bad happens. I see it all the time. But it’s hard to ignore stuff like that, especially when you see the shitty stuff through a firsthand experience.

Suddenly, I get it. I get why it scares Eren. I get why he doesn’t want people to care about him. I get why he doesn’t want people to love him. I get why he’s afraid I’ll do that to him.

People say they love you when they’re happy, when everything's okay and life's not dealing them a shitty hand of cards. My mom used to tell me she loved me every day. But then one day she didn’t, and that was the last time I ever saw her. You can’t ever guarantee that someone who loves you will stick around. There’s no written agreement you make when you love someone. You just do and hope for the best.

It’s a risk I don’t think I’d be willing to take again. Maybe that’s why Eren’s afraid. Maybe he doesn’t want to risk it. Maybe he’s risked it before and nothing good came of it.

I decide right then and there that even if I _do_ cross into “too much” territory, I won’t do anything about it. I don’t want to scare Eren off. I enjoy his company more than I'm willing to admit. If I were to somehow damage what we have now, I doubt I'd ever be able to forgive myself. Things are good right now. I don't wanna mess that up.

Besides, it’s better to have him as a friend than nothing at all right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol why is it that the closer I get to starting school the more I want to write fics?
> 
> I honestly just want to thank all of you guys for being so receptive towards this story. I'm really proud of it and it makes me so happy to hear what you guys think of a particular chapter or character or just the whole story in general. I really appreciate each and every single one of you! This is probably my favorite fic that I've ever written and I'm so, so amazed by the overwhelmingly positive response it's received. Again, thank you all!!


	15. Fifteen: Eren

6:15 am, my house.

“We need to talk.”

I purse my lips and regard Nick coolly. His eyes are narrowed slightly, his jaw set in a tight line, and his lips are turned down into a deep-set frown. It’s kinda hot, in a weird sort of way, and I find myself crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“Right now? I’m kinda about to go to school. You know, that wonderful little institution manned by hundreds of unsatisfied, middle-aged adults who-”

“ _Eren_.”

The way he says my name has me pressing my lips together tightly. I push myself off from the doorframe and accept that school’s not exactly an option right now. Maybe later, once Nick’s talked my ear off about Lord knows what.

“Okay,” I say, simply, and Nick’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He usually has to fight me tooth and nail over stuff, but I’m feeling particularly generous today.

I move back to let Nick into the house. My parents are at work. Jean’s still asleep. Ever since he’s been off from work, he’s made it a personal mission of his to not get up before nine o’ clock. Not that I’m complaining or anything. It'd be disastrous for him to come downstairs right now.

Nick walks inside and immediately heads for the dining room. I forget that he’s been here before, that he’s been here before for someone that wasn’t _me_ , and this sour taste fills my mouth. Nick seems unaware of the revelation I’ve just had, but I guess it has to do with the fact that his back is to me and he's not a mind-reader.

We sit down across from each other and I’m suddenly reminded of Jean. I feel like I’m being interrogated, and the idea of it has something sharp and painful churning deep in the pit of my stomach. I wet my dry lips and fold my hands in front of me. I’m trying to appear receptive to whatever Nick’s about to say, but the truth is that I’m not. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’ve been ignoring him for three weeks, or maybe it has to do with the _reason_ I’ve been ignoring him.

“So you wanted to talk, right?” I say, because the silence is killing me and Nick won’t stop _staring_ at me. He blinks rapidly and sits up a little straighter.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

“Okay,” I say again, impatiently, and his eyes narrow again.

“Look, Eren,” Nick starts, and I find myself leaning back in my seat. “I’m sorry, okay? For what I said to you that day, I mean. It just…shit, it just came out.”

“Stuff like that doesn’t just come out,” I say, chewing the inside of my cheek. A metallic taste fills my mouth and I stop instantly. “Stuff like that is there for a while, you know?”

Nick gives me this unreadable expression that makes the pain in my gut just _that_ more unbearable.

“You’re right,” he says evenly. “But I swear to God I didn’t know. If I did I would’ve…”

“You’ve would’ve _what_?” I say, my voice sharp, and Nick’s eyes go wide. He frowns again.

“I would’ve stopped this.”

“Right,” I say, snorting. “You would’ve _stopped_ this.”

“Why are you getting angry with me?” Nick says, his tone a touch accusatory. “You don’t even _want_ this, right?”

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.

“This,” I say, gesturing between the two of us rapidly. “Is _illegal_. And, in case you’ve forgotten, my brother-in-law is a fucking _cop_.”

Nick purses his lips.

“That’s not why, though,” he says. “This has nothing to do with Jean. It’s all you, isn’t it?”

I inhale sharply at that. Nick’s always been good at that. Calling it like it is, I mean. Had this been any other situation, perhaps I would have appreciated his brutal honesty.

But now? All I want is for him to fucking _shove it_.

“What do you want me to say, Nick?” I ask dully. “Let’s just entertain the idea of me wanting a relationship with you for a moment. Do you really think we’d even last?”

Nick narrows his eyes.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You know why,” I say, and I’m fully aware I’m entering potentially dangerous territory. “Because…because of Mikasa.”

Nick frowns again.

“Jesus Christ, Eren.”

“Well am I wrong?” I ask, my voice a little thick, and Nick seems to be surprised by it. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t.

He just sits there and stares at me, a confused expression on his face. I want to tell him it’s not that hard to get, that this is pretty fucking black and white, but I don’t. I can be cruel, sure, but not _that_ much.

“It’s not like that,” Nick says. “It wasn’t ever like that. God, Eren, why would you even-”

“I don’t know,” I say, cutting him off. I don’t want him to say it. “Forget it, then.”

“No, I can’t just fucking forget it when-”

“Drop it,” I say, my voice like ice. “Okay? Just drop it.”

Nick falls silent again. I drum my fingers against the table to hide the fact that my hands are shaking.

“Nick.”

“What?”

I swallow thickly.

“Do you really think you love me?” I ask him. Nick exhales softly.

“Why are you asking me this?” he says, and he sounds more tired than I’ve ever heard him.

“I want to know.”

“It’s not like it’ll change anything.”

“Yeah,” I say, closing my eyes and leaning my head down so I don’t have to look him in the eyes. “It won’t, but I just want to know.”

“Okay,” Nick says uncertainly. “I don’t know, Eren. And that’s the truth, before you ask me anything else.”

“Then why?” I ask, opening my eyes. “Why do all this shit if you aren’t sure?”

“I’m scared,” he admits softly. “Scared that one day you’ll just…”

He doesn’t finish but I get what he’s getting at. I go back to drumming my fingers against the table again.

“It’s just sex,” I say. He flinches but I’m not trying to be cruel. Just…honest. “It was always just _sex_. Why did you ever think that…?”

“People are allowed to make mistakes,” Nick says slowly. “Really stupid mistakes, I mean. That was mine.”

I swallow roughly past the lump in my throat. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be having this conversation, but there’s nowhere for me to run. There’s nowhere for me to pretend like this isn’t happening. I’m stuck here, trapped, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I don’t love you, Nick,” I say, slowly. “Not in the way you want. I’ve never loved anyone like that, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Nick slumps down in his chair. He looks defeated, and exhausted, and the sharp pain from before comes back full force.

“You deserve to be happy, you know,” he says quietly. “Don’t punish yourself because of what happened.”

“And what about you?” I say before I can stop myself. “Don’t you think you deserve to be happy?”

He seems to be considering my words. After a little while he shrugs, and I find myself wondering if I got through to him.

“Maybe,” he says, pushing his chair back. He circles the table and stares down at me. I meet his eyes hesitantly, and he leans forward and presses his lips against my temple softly. “Thank you.”

I don’t want to ask why he’s thanking me. I nod jerkily and don’t look at him as he walks away from me.

* * *

11:58 pm, the school cafeteria.

I regret listening to the small part of my brain that had insisted I go to school. I would much rather be home, even if Jean would scream his head off if he found me up in my room. He’d let it go, though. He usually lets things go when it comes to me.

I sigh and stab lazily at a piece of chicken. I’m not particularly hungry, and I guess it has something to do with my conversation with Nick earlier. Or maybe I’m just tired or something. I don’t know.

Suddenly, the chair in front of me is pulled out. I raise an eyebrow as Levi plops himself down in front of me. He instantly begins digging into his sandwich. It’s unsettling how natural he looks. It’s like he’s been sitting here all year, which isn’t true.

My eyes travel over to his usual table. It's one of the tables by the window, the long ones that can seat a whole football team. Which it does, but I guess that's not important. From here, I can see Marco Bott giving me a weird look. It turns into a smile when he catches my eye, but I can’t find it in myself to smile back. I scowl a bit and rake my eyes along the length of the table. No one else seems to be confused by this other than me and Marco.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask Levi. He pauses long enough to look at me, one eyebrow raised nonchalantly.

“Eating,” he says, wiping a crumb off the corner of his lips. “Which you should be doing more of, by the way. You know, that whole don’t waste food thing.”

“Not what I meant, but okay,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Lev seems to be considering that.

“You’re alone.”

“Always am. You know, lone wolf and all that jazz. Solitude is pretty sexy.”

“Not for you,” he says with a derisive snort.

“Your team misses you.”

“Football’s over. They're not my team. They’ll manage, anyway. They're big boys.”

I grit my teeth and cross my arms. Levi continues eating, unaware of the holes I’m trying to bore into his skull with my eyes.

“You’re avoiding me,” Levi finally says, eyebrows raised again. “I kinda thought we were cool.”

“We are,” I say. “Cool, I mean.”

“Are we?”

I decide not to tell him he’s the reason we’re, apparently, _not_ cool. Even if I haven’t mentioned to him, the conversation we had in my room stuck with me. I’m not uncomfortable with him or anything like that. It’s just…weird. He said everything was platonic, but I had my doubts.

“Yeah,” I say instead, deciding it’s a good idea to keep my thoughts as…well, thoughts. “Shit’s just been rough.”

“Ah,” he says, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t push. “Look, I just wanted to clear the air or something.”

“The air’s been clear.”

“I know, I just…” Levi drums his fingers against the table.

“You just what?” I prompt, raising my eyebrows. He shakes his head.

“Forget it.”

I press my lips together to prevent myself from asking anything else. Levi’s stopped eating, and now we’re just sitting there looking at each other. I can’t take the silence.

“I talked to Nick.”

Levi whistles lowly.

“How long did that take?”

“Three weeks,” I swallow thickly and pretend to read the label on my milk carton. “Talked to him this morning, actually.”

Levi hums quietly.

“Is that why you didn’t show up to English?”

“Maybe,” I say, and slide down a little in my seat.

“So? How’d it go?” Levi asks, but there’s something off in his voice. I look up at him but his expression is blank. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

I can’t _ever_ tell what he’s thinking.

“It was fine,” I say curtly. “It’s all good now.”

“That’s great,” he says, tone sounding a little flat, and he smiles a bit when I look at him. “You guys seem-”

“Close,” I finish, unintentionally cutting him off. “We are. Guess that’s why we made up.”

I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I don’t know what I expect him to say. Avoiding Nick had been something I did without thinking. I managed perfectly fine not talking to him. The only thing I really missed was the sex, but other than that everything was okay. It hadn’t bothered me at all, but now here I am talking about it.

“Yeah,” Levi says slowly. “Guess so.”

I feel uncomfortable, then, and Levi gives me this unreadable look that I don’t know how to place.

“Levi,” I start, because of all of this is driving me fucking _insane_. “You’re okay with it?”

He narrows his eyes a bit.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“No. Forget it.”

“I’m not gonna just forget it. You can just say it.”

I inhale softly and bite my lower lip. He watches me silently, his eyebrows furrowed, and I let out a frustrated groan.

“What are you expecting to get out of this?” I ask instead. Levi shakes his head.

“I don’t get what you’re asking me, Eren.”

“You lied that day, right? You said you didn’t think you liked me. But…but you do, right? You do and you’re afraid of what will happen.”

Levi’s jaw goes slack. I swallow roughly and look at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I ask, feeling a little breathless, and Levi flinches at the sound of my voice.

“We’re not talking about this.”

“Are you shitting me? I’m pretty sure we should talk about this!”

“For what?” Levi says back, voice curt. “There’s no point, is there? I know how you stand on this thing. We said all there needs to be said before. Let's just drop it.”

“So what, I’m supposed to just let it go? Sorry to break it to you but it doesn't quite work that way.”

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” Levi says, leaning forward a bit. I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t feel the same and I respect that. We can just…do things like we’ve always done them.”

“We can’t,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Things aren’t like they’ve always been.”

Levi exhales quietly.

“So what do you want me to do? Get over it?”

“If you can, yeah,” I say. Levi narrows his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck if you have feelings for me or not. I don’t have time for that shit. So either you get over it or…” I trail off, but it’s not like I need to finish.

I don’t know why I’m being harsher on him than I was on Nick, but I don’t stop and think about it. Levi looks at me for a while like he’s surprised I said all that. And, to be honest, I’m a little surprised too.

“You’re an asshole, Eren,” he says calmly, but then he stands up quickly and his chair screeches loudly against the floor.

I don’t reply. I know I am. He’s not saying anything to me that I haven’t heard before. I’ve been called an asshole over everything. How I acted after my sister died, how I just sleep with people and abandon them, how I have no regard for anyone’s feelings for my own.

But hearing _Levi_ say that to me stings. I feel like I’ve just gotten punched in the gut or something. My entire body feels tense as I watch him leave the cafeteria. The bell rings and the rest of the room follows, but I find myself rooted in my seat. I’m only able to move once one of the lunch monitors gives me a nasty look.

I’m halfway to my locker when I decide to cut class. I hadn’t wanted to go in today anyway, and now I have a reason to avoid gym like the plague. I get my bag from my locker and wait for the monitors to leave the back hallway before I make my escape.

Or attempt to, at least.

Someone grabs my upper arm and pulls me back before I can open the side door. I feel my eyes widen and I stumble backwards blindly. I’ve never gotten caught before. I’ve been skipping since freshman year, and I can’t fathom the idea that I would get caught _now_ of all times.

“Eren?”

“Mr. Smith,” I say, instantly knocking my hood off my head. Mr. Smith is probably the only teacher I respect here, and the disappointed look he’s giving me almost makes me want to apologize a million times.

“What are you doing?” he asks. He doesn’t sound too angry. I decide there’s no point in lying.

“Cutting. Or attempting to, at least. What about you?”

He gestured down the hall with his head. “Getting papers from the copy room.”

“Sounds fun,” I say, slowly, and I tap my foot impatiently. “So what’s it gonna be? Detention? In school suspension?”

Mr. Smith presses his lips together and looks at me for a little bit. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Neither,” he says, softly. He crosses his arms and gives me a concerned look. “Is everything alright?”

I swallow harshly.

“Sure. Everything’s just fine.”

Mr. Smith doesn’t say anything at first. He probably knows I'm lying, but I don't want to talk about. Not to him, especially, but probably not to anyone else either.

“My offer still stands for that Thursday tutoring session, you know,” he says. I narrow my eyes.

“I thought you said you'd drop it if I didn’t go,” I say. Mr. Smith hums noncommittally.

“Maybe I’m not ready to give up on you yet,” he says, and I find myself frowning.

“I think you’re wasting your time, sir.”

“It’s a good thing I have a lot of it then, isn’t it?” he says, cracking a smile.

I can’t smile back. I don’t know why he cares. I guess it’s because it’s his job. You know, educate the young and ignorant. But somehow it doesn’t feel like that. My other teachers stopped pushing a while ago. The never outright said I’d amount to nothing anyway, but the implication was always there. I was just a waste of time to them, another fucked-up kid who’d end up nowhere.

But Mr. Smith hasn’t stopped pushing yet. That offer had been made over a month ago. And here he is, bringing it up again like he still thinks I’m gonna show up...like he thinks I _care_. And maybe I do, somewhere deep down inside. But I haven’t thought about it. Not since that day, at least.

“Guess so,” I say, because I realize he’s not going to give up until I show up there. Maybe I will. It’s not like I have to commit to it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eren,” he says, and begins walking away.

I stand there in the hallway, just watching him go. And then I remember that the monitors are gonna come back to this hallway again soon, so I turn around and shove the door open.

* * *

Jean’s knocked out on the couch when I get home. I stand there, just watching him, before I kick my shoes off and head up to my room. I feel restless, but I don’t feel like going out for a walk or something. My eyes land on the untouched guitar books on my desk.

“Should’ve never broken it,” I mumble to myself, and think back to when I had.

I guess I was mad. I usually am, anyway. I don’t remember much of what happened. Just that I was pissed and wanted to get my frustrations out on something. Poor guitar didn’t deserve it, but neither did the wall. At least I could hide the guitar.

I drop myself down on my bed and wrangle my hoodie off. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my entire body feeling heavy. My mind brings up countless reminders of the day’s events that I try to get rid of. Nick hadn’t been that bad. I’d have that conversation with Nick a thousand times if I could take back the shit I said to Levi.

I had meant it, though. I wanted him to get over whatever this thing he had for me was. I didn’t ask him _what_ he thought it was because…well, I didn’t want to know. And maybe that’s unfair to him, but I never claimed to be somebody who takes the feelings of others into account.

I don’t want to lose Levi. Not over something like this. But I guess it’s inevitable, in a way. This is the part of me that drives people away. The selfish, uncaring asshole part of me that’s pushed away people that care about me.

I guess I do it because I know some people won’t leave. Like Nick and Jean, for example. I use Nick for sex and I basically shit on any kind of help Jean tries to help me. But I’m comfortable doing that. No matter what, I know they won’t get sick of me. Sick enough to leave, I mean.

But then there had been Historia. She’d gotten sick of me _real_ fast. Middle school meant nothing to her once the whole drinking and sex thing started. At first she didn’t care that I was an asshole. I mean, it was before my sister died. I was doing it because I was trying to find which version of Eren Jaeger I wanted to carry around with me for four years. If I remember correctly, it was a toss-up between Eren Jaeger, goody-two shoes, and Eren Jaeger, party animal and asshole extraordinaire.

But then Mikasa was gone and the drinking and sex was because I wanted to distract myself from the constant thought of wanting to be gone too. I don’t remember half the shit I said to her back then…other than _that_ day.

I refuse to think about it. As far as I’m concerned, November 17th is the shittiest day of the year, second only to my sister’s birthday. Maybe I shouldn't think like that, though. Maybe I should embrace Mikasa’s birthday instead of focusing on the fact that she’s going to be twenty eight forever. But I can’t, because it’s such a disturbing fact. It’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life.

I roll onto my side. I don’t know if Levi will get sick of me. Despite the time we’ve spent together, I don’t really know him. Everything I know about him is superficial, things I could find out even if I didn’t care. But all of _this_ is…different. I don’t know how he usually approaches romantic relationships. I don’t know what he expects.

I don’t know what he wants from me.

I guess that's the most terrifying thing about other people. It doesn't matter if you've known them your entire life or for just a few months. No matter what, you'll never truly get them. They'll constantly do things that you won't understand. You can't know what happens in their head. And even if they explain it to you, it's still all so confusing.

I don't know if that's what I'm scared of. The not knowing bit, I mean. I've never thought about it because there had never been a reason to. I usually accept things as they are and don't worry about them too much. But that never really works out for me. And...I don't want to take that approach with Levi. I don't want to fuck up again. I want to keep him as a friend, but at this point I'm not sure if  _he_ wants that.

I decide right then and there that it doesn't matter either way. If we can get past this, then fine. That would be great. Favorable, even, but I'm not about to hold my breath. And if we can't, which is beginning to look like the most realistic outcome, then I'd be cool with that too. I  _have_  to be.

I'm not going to let myself get hurt again.


	16. Sixteen: Levi

The air is cold and instantly burns my uncovered hands. I ignore the sting of the wind against my cheeks and wrap my fingers tighter around the railing. I stare down at the ground below me, my eyes tracing the movements of all the cars. They look small from up here, almost like ants crawling on the ground, and the sight makes me feel breathless in a weird kind of way.

 I close my eyes and exhale slowly. My ears are beginning to ache now too, but I ignore it and focus on the sounds surrounding me. The wind sounds like soft breaths against my ear. I focus on it and tune out the sounds of the passing cars.

My thoughts drift to Eren without me even trying. I keep my eyes closed but grip onto the railing tighter. My mind plays that day at lunch over and over to me. I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try. It’s like it’s on loop for the sole purpose of torturing me beyond belief.

I feel lost.

I’ve never been in this situation before. Eren is something new and unfamiliar, and no matter how hard I try I fear I’ll never be able to figure him out. Most of my friendships were easy. I didn’t have to put any effort into them. They just _worked_.

But Eren’s different. I have to try to make it work. I can’t just sit back and let things work out for themselves. It’s like Eren’s running way ahead of me and I’m struggling to catch up. Hell, maybe I _won’t_ catch up. And that’s fine. Really.

I just want to be close to him.

The thought makes my heart hammer in my chest. I never wanted anyone before. Relationships for me meant nothing. I briefly dated a cheerleader at the end of sophomore year, but she broke up with me because I never spent time with her. Looking back on it, I know it’s because I was scared. Dating had been new to me. Having to care about someone else was _new_.

The last person I ever really cared about was probably my mom. I knew she cared about me too, even if I hadn’t really been a part of her plans. She always wanted to move to California. She used to live there, back before her parents disowned her and she wanted to get the hell away from them. She always told me that was her dream. She said that’s why she sold her body to anyone who wanted it. She was going to make money and she was going to get to California.

But then she died.

And when her body was laid to rest, I put all my concern for other people down in the ground with her.

Then Eren came along.

I didn’t care about him when he slammed into me and had blood dripping down his neck at twelve in the morning. I didn’t care about him when I pushed him to the ground and let my friends mock him. I didn’t care when he socked Reiner in the face at Bertolt’s birthday party.

I started to care when he let me drag him to get Chinese food because I didn’t want to think about how happy my father was with his new family. I started to care when I realized how vulnerable he was, and that all those empty words about how much he didn’t care were just lies. I started to care when I realized he was alone and scared and just trying to get through life.

I started to care when I realized we were the same.

It hadn’t been a realization that I was aware of. I thought I was seeing him differently because we were friends. I thought my concern for him was because we were _friends_ and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I never intended it to be more than that. I didn’t want it to be.

But it… _is_. It is more than that. And while I may not be sure of how deep my feelings for him are, I know that I care about him more than I’ve cared about anyone in a while. I want to be able to help him, even if I can’t do much. I want to make a difference to him.

I want to show him that I’m _here_ , that he’s not alone, that he doesn’t have to be scared.

But I know he doesn’t want that. And I get it, I think. I got used to being alone, too. That’s why my friendship with Eren has been so confusing. I didn’t know what to do because I hadn’t considered anyone to be my friends after Isabel and Farlan.

Sure, I had the guys on the team. But once football season’s over, none of them really need me anymore. They have their own little circle of friends. I’m not relevant to them anymore because I’m not their captain anymore. The only exceptions to that would be Marco and Bertolt. But I haven’t talked to Bertolt since he quit the team and Marco’s got his own friends.

It’s never bothered me, though. I never cared that they all went off and did their own thing. I never needed people before.

But I can’t stand the thought of Eren doing that to me. I don’t want him to slip away from him. I don’t want him to be someone I care about just for a few months.

I just want… _him_.

* * *

Eren doesn’t show up to school for a full week after the whole lunch fiasco. At first, I thought he had just been cutting English. But then I realized that I never passed by him in the hallways, and later after that I saw that he was never in gym either.

I find myself incessantly worrying about him. My brain tries to throw out logical situations. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he went on vacation. Maybe he’s just taking a week off because he wants to.

But no matter what I do, I can’t stop worrying.

When the bell rings at the end of the gym, I find myself searching the hallway for Bertolt. I know he hangs out with Eren. Maybe he knows what’s up.

It isn’t until I’m standing less than a foot away from him that I realize how weird this will be. I haven’t said a single word to him since he handed me his uniform. I’m not mad at him or anything. I know why he did what he did.

It’s just…strange.

I shake my head and clear my throat.

“Hey,” I say casually.

Bertolt stops and looks over at me. He looks shocked, like he can’t believe I’m actually talking to him. I guess I’m not surprised. I wince and make a note to talk to him more. He’s not a bad guy.

“Hey, Levi,” he says slowly, eyebrows knitting together. “Um…what’s up?”

“You’re friends with Eren, right?” I ask, leaning against the lockers. Bertolt nods and begins to zip up his back pack.

“Yeah. Why?” he pauses, looking at me in confusion. “Did something happen to him?”

I stand up straight at that.

“I was gonna ask you that.”

Bertolt shakes his head.

“I haven’t seen him all week,” he admits. “Have you?”

“No,” I say, and I run my fingers through my hair. “Hey, did he say anything to you?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno,” I say, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Maybe that he’s gonna skip this week or something?”

Bertolt shakes his head again.

“He didn’t say anything to me,” he says, pursing his lips. “You think he’s okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, despite the ice-cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

* * *

Eren is _definitely_ fine, if the smarmy grin he gives me when he opens the door is anything to go by.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “I was a little offended you didn’t come earlier.”

I narrow my eyes and take the sight of him in. He looks fine, honestly. I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

“Why haven’t you come to school?”

“Senior skip week,” Eren says instantly.

“That’s not a thing,” I say. Eren huffs.

“Totally is. I’m a senior. I would know.”

I decide not to justify that with an answer. I chew the inside of my cheek and look at him. The grin on his face fades until he’s staring back at me.

“What?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Eren…” I take a deep breath. “Eren, I’m sorry.”

Eren flinches at that.

“It’s cool.”

“I didn’t mean to…you know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding to myself and stepping back. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. You’re coming to school on Monday, right?”

“Yeah-”

“Cool. See you then, I guess.”

“Levi,” he starts, but I’ve got my back to him already. I hear his footsteps against the porch and then he’s gripping my wrist. “Levi.”

“What?” I say, my voice cracking halfway through. Eren takes a shuddery breath behind me.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Go,” Eren whispers. “Don’t go.”

I think of him the night he got drunk out of his mind. He wanted me to stay then too, hadn’t he? But I didn’t. I didn’t stay because I was scared. I was scared that something would have happened, something that I wouldn’t have been able to take back.

But that _something_ has already happened. That _something_ has inevitably changed the nature of our friendship.

I guess that’s why I’m not scared now.

“Okay,” I say, quietly, and turn around.

Eren nods and lets go of me. There’s none of his spunk, none of his usual cockiness. Not now, at least. He looks vulnerable. He looks like he’s seconds away from falling apart.

My heart physically aches at the sight. I let him lead me upstairs, up to his room. I think about how we had watched a movie in here. I let him pull me down onto the bed so that we’re lying next to each other. We’re close enough that our shoulders are pressed together on his tiny mattress.

I look up at the ceiling. He has a string of white lights hanging from one end of the room to the other. I realize that the bulbs are in the shape of seashells. I follow the length of them until my head is turned in Eren’s direction.

He’s staring up at the ceiling, completely still and quiet.

“Eren?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you at lunch. I didn’t mean any of it, you know? That was just me spewing shit because…because I’m-”

“Scared?”

Eren furrows his eyebrows and faces me.

“I’m not scared.”

“I am,” I say. I push my bangs back from my forehead and laugh bitterly. “I’m fucking terrified, actually.”

Eren bites at his lower lip before he shakes his head.

“Do you know anyone?” he asks. I furrow my eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” he says slowly. “Do you _really_ know someone? Do you really get _anyone_?”

“No,” I say. It’s true. I’ve never really understood anyone. “Do you?”

“No,” Eren says. He pauses thoughtfully. “Especially not you.”

“You don’t get me?” I say, half-teasingly. It’s a poor attempt at lightening the mood. “Damn.”

“You don’t get me either, right?” Eren continues on. “That’s why we’re like… _this_. All confused and shit, I mean.”

“Yeah, Eren,” I say. “I _don’t_ get you.”

“I want you to,” he says. “And I wanna get you too. But that’s…that’s fucking _scary_.”

“I get that,” I say. “I mean, you gotta be all vulnerable and stuff. Everything has to be laid out. You’re giving all of yourself to someone.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Eren murmurs. He sighs and shakes his head. “I want us to be cool again.”

“We can be. We are.”

“We’re not,” he says, pursing his lips. “Everything’s all fucked up now.”

I swallow thickly.

“You think we can fix it?”

“Do _you_?”

“That’s what I’m shooting for,” I say. I take another deep breath. “Look, Eren. I’m cool with just being friends. I’m not expecting anything from you.”

Eren doesn’t answer for a while. I stare at him while I wait for his reply.

“Why me?” he asks, laughing bitterly. “You have a lot of options, you know. Like a _ton_. I can guarantee they’ll be a thousand times less complicated.”

“I kinda like the challenge,” I joke. “Keeps me on my toes, you know?”

Eren laughs and doesn’t say anything. He folds his hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. I swallow roughly and face the ceiling.

“I just want you, Eren,” I say. “It doesn’t matter to me how.”

“You sure?” Eren asks, his voice calm and even. “I’m not really the best option to go with.”

“I don’t care,” I say, looking at him. “You’re…you’re all I want.”

“I want to try,” Eren says, right when I think he’s not going to say anything. “I want us to try.”

“Okay,” I say quietly. “We’ll try, Eren.”

Eren nods to himself and turns on his side to face me. I look at him, my heart racing in my chest. 

"We're okay now, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "We're okay Eren."

* * *

Eren and I just sit around talking about meaningless things until he jerks up suddenly. 

"Let's go out," he says. 

I pull my phone out from my pocket and check the time. I whistle softly when I see it's almost seven. I didn't realize I had been here for so long. 

"Right now?"

"The night-"

"Is young. I know."

Eren grins wolfishly. 

"C'mon. If we leave now I won't have to answer to anybody."

I laugh at that. We get up and go downstairs. I notice that there still aren't any cars in the driveway. 

"My parents are at work."

I jerk and look away from the driveway. Eren's in the middle of buttoning his jacket. 

"They give you a hard time? About going out, I mean."

"Nah," Eren shrugs. "They don't really care anymore. It's more Jean than anything."

"Brother, right?"

"Brother-in-law, actually," Eren corrects. "Same thing though, right?"

"Sure, I guess."

"I sneak out too much for his likes," Eren continues. He puts his sneakers on and faces me. "He's the only one who really cares anymore."

I swallow roughly. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Eren mutters. "I'm not."

I don't know what to say. I stay quiet, chewing the inside of my cheek. 

We head outside and I instantly regret not wearing a proper jacket. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up and shove my hands into my pockets. 

"Where are we going?" I ask. 

"It's a surprise," Eren says with a smirk. 

I shake my head and don't ask anything else. 

We walk up the street in silence. I take a good look at all the buildings surrounding us. Eren's neighborhood isn't any different than mine. It's got the same sort of suburban feel, but there's something undeniably different about it. I guess it's because it's new. It's new and unfamiliar, void of any painful memories. My mom and Kenny aren't here. 

It's just _Eren_. 

We end up at this little coffee shop. It's so small that I almost miss it. Eren yanks the door open easily, like he's been here a thousand times before.

I follow after him and let my eyes take in the room. The walls are various colors, a myriad of greens and oranges and yellows. Normally, they'd probably clash. But here they seem to work. 

I step closer to one of the walls. People have written little things all over them. Some of them are small one-liners meant to be inspirational. Others are long paragraphs that don't make any sense. Well, any sense to _me_ at least.

"My sister liked this place."

I turn to look at Eren.  

"It's different," I say. Eren chuckles. "Not in a bad way, though. It's kinda cool."

"She was into that. Being different, I mean. She...she really liked art. Said it gave her an escape."

I reach forward to press my hand against the wall. It's warm and solid against my palm. 

"What about you?" I ask, turning to look at him. 

Eren's eyes widen a bit. 

"I haven't been here since..." he trails off. 

I decide not to push it. 

"You hungry?" I ask, jerking my head towards the counter. 

Eren nods and I grin at him. I walk over to the counter and get us both chocolate muffins. We sit at one of the empty tables and I find myself looking at the walls again. 

"People don't always know what their outlet is," Eren says. "Sometimes they can't find one they like. But writing usually works for everyone."

"You ever write anything here?" I ask. 

Eren shakes his head slowly. 

"Never wanted to," he says. "My sister did, though. Did it a bunch of times, actually."

I stand up, abandoning my muffin. Eren raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything when I walk over to the wall. 

I grab one of the markers from the basket attached the wall. I stare at it for a few seconds until I see an empty spot. Uncapping my marker, I begin to write. 

When I'm done, I cap the marker and set it back into the basket. Eren comes up behind me and squints at the wall. He stands up straight and looks at me curiously. 

"Live fearlessly?"

"It's a good motto, right?" I murmur. 

"You think it's possible?" Eren asks. 

I look over at him and smile. 

"I think we can try."


	17. Seventeen: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited, but I'll get back to this chapter when I'm not seconds away from passing out.
> 
> No Levi in this chapter, but he'll come back in the next. Also, a warning. This chapter dicusses rape, which I know can be a very sensitive topic. Please, by all means, don't feel forced to read this if it makes you uncomfortable. Your well-being comes before any story.

9:59 pm, Bertolt’s bathroom.

Outside, I can hear the music. It’s heavy and deep, the kind of shit I’m usually into, but I can’t focus on it for too long. Bertolt groans softly and pitches forward towards the toilet. I wince as he retches loudly, his entire body shaking with the effort of keeping him up.

I shuffle forward on my knees and ignore the acidic smell curling into my nostrils. I grip the back of Bertolt’s shirt to keep him in place and curl my arm around his waist. His body tenses and relaxes, his muscles working hard, and I pull him back a little to let him rest against me.

He goes limp in my arms and I look at him tentatively. His eyes are fluttering, but he’s awake. I release a relieved breath and let my own body relax. He’s still shaking, so I curl my arm tighter around him and try to somehow transfer my own body heat to him.

I press my face to his hair. He smells like alcohol. I wrinkle my nose and pull back.

“Bertolt?” I try softly. He doesn’t move. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me.”

Bertolt’s eyes open slowly. He stares up at me before he begins to cough. I sit him up as best as I can. He gags but doesn’t actually puke. He flops back against me with enough force to send my back crashing against the bathroom wall. I grunt in pain and try to adjust my position. My ass is really fucking numb, I realize, but Bertolt’s comfort is more important than mine at the moment.

“…Bertolt?”

“…Yeah?” he asks. His voice is naturally quiet, but now it’s even more so. I have to strain my ears to hear him.

“Are you okay?” It’s a stupid question, which I realize after I’ve already said it, but I’m desperate to keep him talking. I don’t want him to pass out on me.

“Yeah,” he says again, sounding exhausted.

“C’mon,” I say, holding him under his armpits to get him up. He’s a hell of a lot taller than me and pretty heavy too, but I manage well enough. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I lead him over to the sink and let him brush his teeth. I tell him to lean against the counter while I go flush the toilet. I return to his side and stand next to him protectively. He brushes his teeth sluggishly, and now I can really get a look at him.

His hair is a mess and his eyes are bloodshot. His face is a little swollen, and when he shifts his arm to rinse the toothbrush off I catch sight of something white under his sleeve.

“What’s that?” I mutter, half to myself, and reach forward to lift up his sleeve.

Bertolt jerks away from me like he’s been burned. I watch, bewildered, as he pastes himself against the opposite walk from the sink. His body is trembling yet again, and I find my eyebrows furrowing at his strange behavior.

“Bertolt?” I say, quietly. “You’re scaring me.”

He seems to get more agitated at that. I swallow thickly and take a slow, tentative step towards him. He presses himself back even more to the wall, like he’s trying to melt into it or something, and something cold squeezes around my heart.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” I say, holding my hands out. “I just want to know what happened. Can you tell me what happened?”

Bertolt doesn’t respond right away. I find myself unintentionally holding my breath as I try to gauge what he’s going to do next. He crumples against the wall, and I rush forward to catch him before he crashes down onto the floor.

“Bertolt?” I start, my voice thick, and I inhale sharply. “You gotta tell me what happened, man. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Bertolt shakes his head firmly.

“Can’t,” he croaks out. “I can’t…I said…”

“You said what?”

“Nothing,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “I said…nothing.”

I exhale heavily and run my fingers through my hair. Bertolt had called me earlier in the evening in tears. I had instantly been worried, and I got here as fast as I could. He was puking when I finally got upstairs, and when I did a quick search of the house I realized no one was home besides him.

We’ve been holed up in the bathroom ever since. I don’t know what time it is, but I imagine it can’t possibly be _that_ late yet. Even so, I shoot a quick text to Jean telling him that I’m staying over at a friend’s house. There’s no way in hell I can leave Bertolt alone.

“Okay,” I say, realizing that we’re getting nowhere with this conversation. He won’t talk to me. “You can tell me later, then.”

He doesn’t say anything. He lets me help him up again and lead him to his room. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but I pretty much remember where it is. I open the doors that lead to his balcony a bit and tell him to sit in front of it to help with the nausea.

As the icy air quickly chills the room, I drop myself into the chair in front of his desk. Bertolt rests his forehead against the glass of the doors. The curtains billow out and obstruct my view of him.

He leans backwards until he’s flat on his back on the plush white carpet.

“Tired?” I ask.

“No,” he mumbles. “Cold, though.”

I shut the doors and watch as the curtains flutter back into place. Bertolt doesn’t look like he’s moving any time soon, so I drop myself down on the ground next to him. Our shoulders press together and I find myself staring at one of the expensive paintings on the wall.

“I hurt myself,” Bertolt finally says after a long stretch of silence has passed between us. I find myself turning to look at him instantly.

“Where?”

“Here,” he mutters, lifting the sleeve of his shirt up.

My eyes lock onto his arm, wrapped over with a few pieces of gauze. He yanks at the end and the whole thing unravels and falls to the floor. I sit up quickly once my eyes lock onto the substantial gash running the length of it.

“What the fuck?” I say before I can stop myself. Bertolt flinches and tugs his sleeve down. “What happened?”

“Accident,” he murmurs. “Broken glass.”

“Broken glass?” I echo, my eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell were you doing with broken glass?”

“Nothing,” Bertolt tells me.

I open my mouth to ask another question, but Bertolt has his arms covering his face.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says, his voice quiet and almost impossible to hear. I swallow thickly.

“Okay,” I say, and I wonder how many times I’ve said that word tonight. “You don’t have to.”

“Okay,” he says meekly.

“C’mon,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Get some sleep.”

His arms fly away from his face and he gives me a panicked look. I try to smile reassuringly, but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace than anything.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave you alone.”

He nods and I help him up again. I lead him over to the bed and make sure he’s situated before I head over to the door and switch off the light. I turn the doorknob, about to leave to find a guest room or something, when Bertolt whimpers softly.

My heart physically aches at the sound. I turn on my heel and kick off my sneakers.

“Move over,” I mutter.

It’s too dark to see him anymore, but I hear the sheets rustling. I pat the bed and make sure he’s on the other side before I drop myself down onto the mattress. It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than my shitty twin-size bed at home, but I’m too worried to really appreciate it. My mind races as I slide down until my head’s resting on the pillow.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?” I turn my head in the direction of Bertolt’s voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I say instantly, but Bertolt doesn’t reply. I wait for him to say something else, but before I know it his breathing evens out and gets deeper.

He’s asleep.

I sigh quietly and force my eyes shut.

* * *

Bertolt’s gone when I wake up in the morning. I yank my phone out from my pocket and check the time. It’s barely seven in the morning. I suppress a yawn and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Grabbing my sneakers by the laces, I throw open the door and search the house for Bertolt.

I find him in the kitchen with his head down on the table. There’s an untouched cup of coffee next to him, as well as a pill bottle. I furrow my eyebrows but relax when I see it’s just Advil.

“Hey,” I say, poking his shoulder in greeting.

He lifts his head slowly and looks up at me. The dark circles under his eyes are too shocking to look away from.

“Hey,” he says, voice gravelly from disuse.

I take a seat on the other side of the counter. Bertolt avoids my eyes and stares down at his hands. I watch him fiddle with his fingers before I realize that I can’t take this anymore.

“What happened?”

“With what?” he asks dumbly, and I find myself narrowing my eyes.

“Last night,” I say, and pause as I search his face. “You were freaking out or something. And you smelled like alcohol.”

He flinches and clenches his jaw.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Bullshit,” I snap instantly, and Bertolt looks up at me quickly. “Don’t give me that! Look at your damn arm.”

Bertolt shakes his head and looks determinedly at a spot on the floor. I exhale softly from my nose and run my fingers through my hair. I’m not drunk enough for this, whatever _this_ is, and I can’t help but to feel a little frustrated. Bertolt and I are friends, aren’t we? Why can’t he just _tell_ me?

“Bertolt,” I say, trying to sound as calm as possible. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m not gonna get angry, okay? I’m just trying to help.”

“Stop trying,” Bertolt says stubbornly, and I can’t stop the dry laugh that bubbles out of my throat.

“No chance,” I say.

Bertolt raises himself up so that he’s sitting straighter in his seat. He chews at his lower lip before he looks up at me.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says. He swallows thickly and looks down at the ground. “Seriously, Eren.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I won’t say anything.”

Bertolt gives me a dubious look before he reaches up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “You can’t do anything either.”

“Alright,” I say, even though I find the request a little odd. “I won’t do anything. Scout’s honor.”

Bertolt narrows his eyes.

“You were a Boy Scout?”

“No, but it felt right to say,” I say, grinning. Bertolt just stares back at me.

My smile slips off of my face. I clear my throat quietly.

“Alright,” I say. “Go ahead.”

Bertolt shifts a bit in his seat. I watch him attentively. He almost looks like he’s gonna puke again, and I pray to whatever deity is out there that he won’t. When the uncomfortable expression on his face passes, I resist the urge to sigh in relief. I experienced enough puke to last me a lifetime last night.

“…Remember what I said before?” Bertolt says, chewing hard on his lip. “About Reiner and I sleeping together when we were fifteen?”

I get this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I decide to ignore it. I tell myself that what Bertolt’s about to tell me might not be that bad, but I know that won’t be the case. It has to be bad.

The thought terrifies me to the core, but I refuse to let that show. I need to be strong for him.

“What about it?” I ask slowly.

“I was thinking about it yesterday,” Bertolt says. “I just…it really hurt to think about, you know? I mean I just…I thought I was over it. But I guess I wasn't. I just wanted to forget about it.”

My eyes widen.

“That cut on your arm,” I say, my words even and quiet. “You did that to yourself, right?”

Bertolt doesn’t say anything. Then he nods once.

 “I’ve never done it before,” he says. “Cutting, I mean. But I was really upset and I just…I wanted a distraction. It just happened and I freaked out.”

“That’s why you called me,” I say. “You were scared.”

Bertolt chews on his lower lip.

“I…” he begins, but quickly falters. “I have to tell you something. About the night Reiner and I slept together.”

“What is it?” I ask, even as my heart hammers uncontrollably in my chest. Bertolt swallows roughly, his throat bobbing, and rubs his hands against his thighs.

“I…may have lied about some of it,” he starts. I furrow my eyebrows but don’t say anything yet. “I said we were both drunk, but the truth is that only Reiner was.”

That sinking feeling comes back a thousand times more intense. I grip the edge of the counter to ground myself and swallow thickly.

“Bertolt…”

“It’s true that we slept together,” he says, wincing, and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “He was still really pumped up from the game, and the alcohol made it worse. He and Franz got in this stupid argument over something. Franz socked him in the face before he stormed off. Reiner…Reiner wouldn’t calm down. I had to get people to leave because he was so out of control.”

“What happened after they all left?” I ask carefully.

“Reiner kept pacing around,” Bertolt continues. “I had to grab on to him to get him still. I said some things to calm him down and it worked for a bit. Then he started going off again so…so I kissed him to shut him up.”

“And then?”

Bertolt squeezes his eyes shut and exhales quietly.

“He kept kissing me,” he whispers. “I didn’t have a thing for him or anything. I don’t know why I kissed him. I…I didn’t expect for it to go that far. Everything just escalated really quickly and the next thing I knew we were having sex. I didn’t do anything to stop him. I just…took it.”

He stops and looks at me.

“…Eren?”

“You never said yes,” I say, and watch as Bertolt flinches. “You never said yes, right?”

“I never said no either,” Bertolt murmurs. He wraps his arms around himself.

I chew the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. My blood is practically boiling, and I force myself to pace the length of the kitchen in an attempt to calm down.

“He didn’t…I don’t think he forced me. I let it happen.”

My throat feels tight.

“Did you want it to?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Bertolt admits. “I thought he wanted it so I just…”

I sink back into my chair, boneless. I’m suddenly exhausted. My entire body aches, and it gets even worse as I mull over the newly acquired information floating around in my head.

“That’s rape, Bertolt.”

His head shoots up at the word.

“He didn’t…Reiner…he wouldn’t have-”

“But he did,” I say quietly, my eyes burning as the reality of the situation catches up to me. “That…that’s exactly what he did.”

Bertolt gets really quiet at that. He avoids my eyes again, and I run my fingers through my hair.

“That’s why you were jumpy last night, right?” I ask. “You were remembering it.”

Bertolt shrugs half-heartedly.

“I guess,” he mumbles. I dig my fingers into my thighs to stop myself from clenching my fists.

“What do you want to do about it?” I ask. Bertolt shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says. My eyes get wide.

“Nothing?” I repeat. “You can’t let that fucking asshole-”

“Eren.”

I stop.

“I don’t want to report him or anything,” he says softly. “I just want to…”

“Want to what?”

“Forget about it,” he finishes. I swallow roughly. “That’s why I don’t want you to say anything about it.”

“You can’t handle this on your own,” I tell him, shaking my head. “You need someone to help you.”

Bertolt chews at his lower lip. Suddenly, I get an idea.

“Get dressed,” I say, jumping to my feet.

“Huh?”

“Get dressed,” I repeat, shoving my feet back into my sneakers. “I know someone who can help.”

“Help,” Bertolt echoes flatly.

I turn to look at him. Before I can think about it, I’m rounding the corner and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I tell him. “I swear to God, you’re gonna be okay.”

Bertolt only reaches up to hug me back.

* * *

8:29 am, the last place I thought I’d go to.

Bertolt fiddles with the hem of his sweater.

“You don’t have to go in,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I just thought it would be helpful for you. I know you just told me about it but-”

“It’s okay,” Bertolt cuts me off. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. I squeeze his hand again and lead him up the steps.

“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help,” I tell him, and it occurs to me that I’m repeating Mina’s words to me. “It doesn’t make you weak.”

“I know,” Bertolt says, chewing his lip. “I just…it’s been two years. Does it even matter now?”

“Of course it does,” I say. “It doesn’t matter when it happened. If it’s hurting you now, you deserve to get help. You shouldn’t have to force yourself to go through it alone.”

Bertolt nods. I smile at him and lead him up the steps. I raise my free hand to press the doorbell. I find myself unintentionally holding my breath as I wait for the door open. Bertolt clutches onto my hand tight enough to hurt, and I stroke my thumb soothingly over his knuckles.

Suddenly, I can hear the door being unlocked. When it swings open, I take a deep breath.

“I…no, _we_ need your help,” I say, swallowing thickly. “Can we come in?”

The person on the other side of the door looks surprised but opens the door wider.

“Of course,” she says with a broad smile.

I nod and step inside Mina’s house.


	18. Eighteen: Levi

Black dots dance in my vision. There’s something almost graceful about them, and if I ignore the white-hot pain coursing through my body I think I can admire them more. They remind me of a ballet my mom took me to see. I was only five and I had fallen asleep not even halfway through, but I remember the bit I had been awake for. The ballerina’s gentle twirls and perfectly pointed feet had captivated me. I admired her grace, even if I was bored out of my mind, and it was a memory that stuck with me throughout the years.

It’s strange that I’m thinking of it right now, but something about the pain Kenny inflicts on me seems to trigger it. Fighting is a lot like dancing, I guess. Each move is carefully calculated, each strike pushed by a definite amount of strength. The entire body works together in perfect synchronization with the hopes of inflicting the most damage and essentially coming out on top.

I slowly raise my eyes to look at Kenny. He snarls, gripping me by the collar of my shirt, and slams my back against the wall. The impact makes me jerk in his hold, but he uses his strength to keep me pinned there.

“What the fuck did you say to me?!” he growls.

Oh, right.

This whole thing started because I was feeling a little braver today. Like Kenny liked to put it, I finally grew some balls. I'm not sure why it happened, but I was calling Kenny a fucking coward before I could stop myself. And now here we are, sweating like pigs as adrenaline courses through our veins.

“I said you’re a fucking coward,” I seethe, getting right up in his face, and Kenny punches me hard enough to make my breath leave my throat in a choked gasp.

There’s something almost amusing about his expression. The fact that such a simple word set him off is laughable, but it becomes anything but funny when it occurs to me that the same word had set me off before too. I had turned into an asshole when Eren had something similar to me, hadn’t I?

The memory fills me with shame. I go limp in Kenny’s hold.

“You’re so fucking ungrateful,” Kenny says, gripping onto my shirt like he intends to rip it. “I told her to get rid of you, but she insisted on keeping you. You’ve been nothing more than a goddamn parasite your whole life.”

The words make me flinch. Kenny smirks, victorious, and my throat begins to feel a little tight now too.

“You’re wrong,” I say, but my voice is soft.

“You think you’re gonna amount to anything?” he says. “You think you’ll ever be anyone in life?”

I press my lips together and don’t answer. Kenny drives his knee into my gut.

“Answer me when I speak to you, damn it!”

“No!” I scream, and Kenny stops abruptly. “No, I don’t! You’re fucking right! Is that what you want me to say? Huh?!”

Kenny lets go of me suddenly. He seems a lot calmer, but I refuse to let my guard down. He paces back and forth in front of me. I wonder if he’ll do it enough to run the carpet down.

I sag back against the wall. My knees feel like they’re made of jelly, incapable of supporting my weight, and everything fucking _hurts_.

“I’m sorry, okay?” I say, my voice hoarse. Kenny snaps his head up and looks at me. “I’m sorry my mom’s dead. I’m sorry I got shoved onto you.”

He pauses in his pacing, arms crossed over his chest, and frowns.

“You should be.”

“I know,” I mutter. “I am.”

Kenny nods, pleased, and turns to go down the hall. I swallow and wait for him to come back. When I hear him opening the basement door, I grab my jacket and book it.

I don’t know if I should really be driving now or not, but it’s not like I’m going to stop and weigh my options. I just want to get out of here. I just need to _go_.

I drive to my destination without much of a second thought. My stomach churns violently in warning, but I ignore it. I don’t want to listen to the selfish part of my head right now. I have to do this.

The house looks the same as it usually does. It’s hard to believe it’s been at least a month or so since I’ve been here. But maybe today…

No.

No. Things wouldn’t change. This…it doesn’t mean anything.

I get out of the car but leave it running. When I climb the porch steps, my feet making loud, thumping noises that sound almost obnoxious in the silence of the night. I raise my hand and shakily ring the doorbell.

It takes a few minutes for the door to open. I pass the time by rocking myself a bit on my heels. My stomach hurts like hell, and I know there will probably be bruises on my back too. Finding a comfortable position to sleep in tonight would be an adventure.

“…Levi?” The look she gives me is uncertain. I can see why she’s surprised. The last time I had been here, I had rather dramatically proclaimed that I had no intention of returning.

“Hi, Olivia,” I say shortly. Her name tastes bitter on my tongue, but I figure it’s time I showed the woman some damn respect. Olivia grips the door and frowns slightly.

“Michael’s not home,” she says flatly. “He’s on a business trip.”

“Oh,” I say. I shrug a shoulder. “Didn’t really come for him.”

She furrows her eyebrows. She’s looking at my face, and I’m sure she can tell that I look like shit. I probably look like I got into a fight…even though Kenny always makes sure he doesn’t hit me on the face. You know, for the sake of appearances and all that.

“Sammy has to go to bed soon,” she says crisply. “You can come back in the morning.”

“I just want to see my brother, okay?” I say, tiredly, and her eyes widen. I’m aware it’s the first time I’ve openly acknowledged him as my brother without the _half_ part hastily tacked on. “Just…please.”

I must look really fucking pathetic, because the next thing I know Olivia’s turning and yelling up the stairs for Sammy. I hear him tumbling down the stairs, and before I know it he’s launching himself at me.

I barely have time to react before he connects solidly with my body. I let out a pained groan when his head slams against my stomach. Olivia gives me a concerned look, but I’m not focused on her anymore.

“Levi!” he cries, arms tight around my waist, “You came back!”

“Told you I would,” I say, leaning down. “Hey, you wanna get some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Sammy asks, his eyes round, and he turns to Olivia. “Mom, can I go? Please?”

“I…” she trails off.

“Please?” I add, and Olivia’s face softens fractionally.

“Have him home before midnight,” she says, frowning yet again, but I count it as a win in my book. “He has school tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say, but Sammy’s excited squeal overpowers my voice. “Will do.”

Sammy scampers back upstairs to change. Olivia shakes her head and turns to walk off.

“Hey,” I call, effectively getting her attention, and she turns to face me. “Sorry for being such a dick. You’re…not bad.”

Olivia crosses her arms.

“Don’t curse,” she chastises me, and walks off before I can even reply.

Sammy comes back down then, bundled up in a winter coat and a big scarf, and it occurs to me suddenly that I’m freezing my balls off out here. I force a grin on my face and ruffle his hair when he pastes himself to my side.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Sammy says honestly, and I furrow my eyebrows.

“Seriously?” I ask, looking down at him, and Sammy shrugs. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

“I guess,” he mutters, almost too low for me to hear. “People don’t always keep their promises.”

It’s a shockingly mature statement, and I look at Sammy, my jaw dropped open a bit. I had spent so much time lamenting on the fact that we were totally different, that Sammy was so more privileged than I was…but he _isn’t_. We’re more alike than I’d like to admit. We were both forced to see the harsh reality of life before we were ready, but I never once felt bad for myself. Sammy, on the other hand, was a different story.

I think back to my last visit here, to when he’d broke down in tears in front of me, and swallow thickly.

“Why are you saying that?” I say with a chuckle, reaching out to ruffle his hair again.

“No reason,” he replies ambiguously, and before I can reply he grins brightly. “What kind of ice cream are we getting?”

“Whatever you want, kiddo,” I say, and yank the car door open. “You wanna ride shotgun?”

Sammy nods rapidly and all but jumps into the seat. I chuckle quietly at his actions and make sure he’s buckled in before I pull away from the curb.

“Why’d you come?” Sammy asks, fiddling with the radio, and I look over at him.

“I told you I would.”

“I know,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “I just thought you meant a lot later.”

“Did you not want me to?” I ask, confused, and Sammy shakes his head vehemently.

“That’s not what I meant!” he cries, instantly defensive, and my eyes widen. “I just…”

“What?” I ask gently, trying to coax the answer out of him, but Sammy refuses to answer.

“Just forget it,” he says, tugging the seatbelt away from his neck a bit. “I’m glad you did.”

I decide not to comment on his strange behavior. The silence in the car is suddenly stifling. In all of my interactions with Sammy, he had been _loud_. It was damn near impossible to get the kid to shut up. While I had found it to be annoying at first, I quickly got used to it. In fact, I had somehow begun to think it was kinda endearing.

So now, it’s incredibly weird to have him being so quiet. I’ve never seen Sammy quiet at any point in time. He’s always going a thousand miles a second, and it’s difficult for me to keep up with him. I don’t know what happened, but I figure Sammy will tell me when he’s ready. I don’t want to force him.

I pull up in front of an ice cream shop and make sure Sammy’s following after me before I enter. It’s about seven now, and I’m grateful the shop doesn’t close until nine. I had found it when I decided to get out of the house. Whenever I go out, I tend to go get food. I guess it’s a coping mechanism of sorts.

“Pick whatever you want,” I tell Sammy, digging into my back pocket for my wallet. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sammy nods and walks over to the counter to look at the list of flavors. I grip my wallet and wait for him to tell me what he wants.

“Chocolate,” he says determinedly. I raise my eyebrows.

“Just chocolate?” I ask, surprised, and nearly laugh. “You have so many options, though.”

“Chocolate’s good,” Sammy says, defensive, and I pinch his cheek.

“Alright, you dork. Chocolate it is.”

Once Sammy has his double-scoop of chocolate ice cream, I lead us to an empty table and sit down. He gives me a curious look as he licks slowly at his cone.

“You’re not getting any?” he asks. I shake my head.

“No,” I say.

Sammy shrugs and dives back into his ice cream. He manages to get it on the corners of his mouth, and I laugh when he looks surprised about it. He sticks his tongue out at me and continues eating.

My smile fades when I think of the night’s events. Sammy seems to notice as he pauses in his enthusiastic licking to tilt his head a bit to the side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?” I ask, reaching across the table to poke his playfully on the arm. “You’re being pretty quiet today, kid. Something happen?”

“No,” Sammy says, and goes back to eating his ice cream distractedly. “Well, not really.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling a bit concerned, and he shrugs.

“Nothing. Just…” He pauses before sighing quietly. “Dad said you weren’t gonna come back.”

I scowl and look down at the table.

“Dad’s a liar. And a bastard,” I say, muttering the insult so Sammy doesn’t hear.

He does, though, and holds his hand out.

“You said a bad word,” he says. “That’s five cents for the swear jar.”

I roll my eyes and drop a quarter into his palm.

“I’m giving you extra in case I say anything else,” I say gruffly, and Sammy smiles a bit.

“I believed him, you know,” Sammy mumbles. “I didn’t mean to. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay, Sammy,” I say honestly. “I’m not mad.”

Sammy seems less interested in his ice cream now. “He and Mom used to say a lot of bad stuff about you. I believed them because I didn’t know any better.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” Sammy says, and I find myself once again amazed at his maturity. “I’m sorry, Levi.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask, shaking my head in wonder. “It’s not your fault.”

Sammy falls quiet.

“Mom lied.”

“Huh?” I ask, confused. “About what?”

“Dad,” Sammy says slowly, raising his eyes to look at me. “Dad’s not on a business trip. He left.”

“What?” I ask, my voice hoarse, and I can feel my heart plummet towards the floor. “What do you mean he _left_?”

Sammy closes his eyes for a few seconds.

“He’s gone,” he whispers. “I came home from school and Mom was crying her eyes out. When I asked her, she told me it was just me and her now.”

“Motherfucker,” I whisper, and Sammy’s eyes go wide. “Shit, sorry.”

“Fifteen cents,” Sammy mutters quietly, rolling the quarter around in his palm. “You have two more bad words until you gotta pay up again.”

“You’re good at math,” I say, trying to bring a smile to his face, but it doesn’t work. “I wouldn’t have gotten that.”

“That’s second grade stuff,” Sammy says, but his cheeks look a little red.

I nod and cross my arms.

“When did he leave?” I ask softly. Sammy swallows harshly.

“Last Wednesday,” he says, and pauses. “It…was my birthday.”

“What?!” I ask, sitting up straight. Sammy jumps at my outburst, but I can't stop myself. “He-”

“You didn’t call,” Sammy says, disappointed and soft, and my heart physically _aches_. “Dad said you wouldn’t…and you didn’t.”

I swallow hard.

“I didn’t know,” I say honestly. “No one…no one ever told me.”

Sammy nods.

“I know,” he says. He shrugs and plays with the napkin wrapped around his cone. “Mom told me. About everything.”

“Everything, huh?” I ask. I know Olivia probably only knew whatever lies Michael told her, but at least Sammy knows he isn’t the only child of Michael’s to get abandoned.

“She said your mom is dead,” Sammy says carefully, and he looks up at me to gauge my reaction. “Is…that true?”

I stare at the table. Then, I nod.

“It is,” I say, my voice rough, and I clear my throat. “She, uh, she died over the summer.”

Sammy stiffens.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “How…how are you holding up?”

“I don’t know,” Sammy replies. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“It’s still fresh,” I say. “I guess it didn’t sink it yet.”

Sammy finishes off his ice cream. He wipes his mouth off with a napkin and avoids looking at me.

“You think he’s coming back?” Sammy asks. He’s staring out the window, and I find myself struggling to find the right words. “Be honest, Levi.”

“…No,” I finally say, my shoulders slumping, and I feel like the entire weight of the world is on me suddenly. “I don’t.”

“Huh,” Sammy says evenly, and it’s hard for me to believe he’s only eleven.

“Sammy,” I start, but my words stop there.

I don’t know what to say. No one had comforted me when my family began to fall apart. No one bothered to explain things to me when I kept pestering Mom about why I didn’t have a dad and all my classmates did. No one cared when my mom died and I got shoved onto Kenny like some kind of lost puppy.

I don’t know what to say to Sammy. I guess there’s nothing for me to say anyway. I can’t change Michael’s mind. I can’t force him to go back to Olivia, to Sammy, to their perfect little house. I can’t change what happened.

And, well, maybe I don’t want to. Maybe a sick part of me is happy Sammy’s seeing his father, _our_ father, for who he really is. Maybe I’m glad the idyllic, superhero image boys paint of their fathers is yet again proven to be nothing more than some idiotic lie. Maybe I’m happy there’s someone to share my bitterness with. Maybe I’m happy there’s someone who will grow up to hate my father as much as I do. Maybe I’m happy Sammy and I aren’t that different anymore.

I take Sammy home after that. Olivia lingers in the doorway, and I look at her with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“He probably told you,” she starts, quietly, and I shrug.

“He might have.”

She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I thought I was different,” she says. “I didn’t…I didn’t think he’d do that to me too.”

“Guess you were wrong,” I mumble. I slide my hands into my pockets. Olivia bites at her lower lip.

“You must be happy,” she says with a bitter laugh. I shake my head.

“Not happy,” I murmur, glancing past at her at Sammy, who is shedding his thick coat and scarf. “Just pissed he’s gotta go through what I did.”

Olivia looks startled at that.

“He has me,” she says, sounding a touch defensive, and I scoff.

“Does he really?” I ask, and she falls silent at that.

“He’s not you,” she says after a few moments, and I can’t help but recognize the bite in her words. I shrug again.

“You’re right. He’s not,” I say, and kick lightly at the stupid doormat on the porch. “You know why?”

“Humor me.”

“Because you’re gonna make sure he’s alright,” I say, my voice soft but determined, and Olivia narrows her eyes at me. “You’re gonna make sure he doesn’t end up like me. He deserves better than me.”

Olivia presses her lips together thinly. I take a step back from the door.

“Have a good night,” I say, but I’m not sure if I really mean the words or not.

“Yeah,” she says, distracted, and I smirk to myself. “You too.”

* * *

I don’t go home after dropping Sammy off. I drive around aimlessly and try to keep my mind occupied with things that aren’t about today, but it’s hard. My mind jumps from Kenny to Michael and back again, over and over, until I have to pull over because my head hurts.

My gas is running low and I’m pretty far from home. I turn the car off and lean back in my seat. My entire body feels both numb and entirely too sensitive. It’s a strange sensation, and when I squeeze my eyes shut my forehead throbs in protest.

I look at the clock. It’s only around 9:30 now. It feels much later, though. I’m thoroughly exhausted. Sleep is the only thing I can think of now, but I refuse to go home.

No, that place isn’t home. It’s just somewhere I live. It was never home. It will never _be_ home.

I slide my phone out of my pocket. I fiddle with it, scrolling through Facebook a bit. I hardly use it. The only reason I made an account is because Isabel insisted I did.  Which is funny, considering how she blocked me right about when I decided to act like a douchebag. Can’t say I blame her, though.

When I get tired of the mindless posts about school and friends, I got to my contacts. My thumb hovers over Eren’s name. We had exchanged numbers after we went to that coffee shop. He insisted it would be a lot easier to keep in contact. I thought of it as progress, even though I’m not really sure what it’s progress towards.

I press on his name before I can change my mind. It rings for a few moments before he answers. I feel my breath get caught in my throat for some weird reason.

“Levi?” he asks, sounding tired, and something rustles on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I say, and slide down a little in my seat. The car feels cold, suddenly, and I’m not sure why. It had been fine before. “What’s up with you?”

“Um…nothing,” he says. He sounds confused. “Why’d you call?”

_I want to hear your voice._

“No reason,” I say instead, because I don’t want to embarrass myself. Eren goes quiet.

“Did something happen?”

_Yes._

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

_No._

“Yes.”

“…I know you’re lying,” Eren says. He sounds tired. Guilt stabs me like a hot rod straight to my heart. “I thought we agreed to be honest with each other.”

“We never made that agreement,” I mumble.

“We definitely did,” Eren says indignantly, and maybe I would have laughed if I had the energy to do so. “It was more of an unspoken sort of deal, but it was definitely there.”

“I believe you,” I say, trying to mollify him, because I can practically see him getting fired up. “You’re right. We did.”

“Right,” Eren says, sounding calmer. “So…you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” I say, and there’s this sharp pain running through my body. I grit my teeth. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Tell me about your day,” I say, and Eren scoffs.

“Gross. What are we, an old married couple?”

“We’re whatever you want us to be,” I say, cracking a tiny grin even though he can’t see me.

“Alright, weirdo,” Eren says. He hums softly. “My day was…yeah.”

“Bad?”

“Sorta.”

“What happened?” I ask. Eren doesn’t say anything for a while. I wonder if he’s hung up on me, but then he takes a shuddery breath.

“Um, let’s talk about something else,” he says quickly. “How was your day?”

“What happened?” I ask again, more insistently, and Eren sighs.

“Nothing. I just…I dunno, it was just a bad day. What more do you want me to say?”

“You’re hiding something.”

“So are you.”

I swallow hard. “Touché.”

“I’m sorry,” Eren says, sounding genuine. “It’s just…it’s not about me. You know, confidentiality and all that jazz. Don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I get it.”

“What about you?”

I bite my lip and grip the phone in my hands tighter.

“Coward,” I say, and my voice cracks as I say it. I laugh, bitter, and run my free hand through my hair. “You were right, you know. I _am_ a coward.”

“That’s not true,” Eren says almost instantly. I wonder what kind of face he’s making right now. It’s hard to talk on the phone, I realize. You can’t see the other person’s expression. You can’t see how your words affect them.

“Yeah…”

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Eren asks. I nod, which is dumb since he can’t _see_ me, but I don’t really care.

“Many things happened,” I say. “And, quite honestly, it all fucking _sucks_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Life sucks.”

“I know.”

“I’m…”

“You’re….?” he coaxes. I stare out of my windshield up at the sky. It’s a sort of inky black, splattered  with all these little silver stars, and I try my best to stay focused on it.

“Tired,” I murmur. “I’m really tired.”

“I’m tired too,” Eren says gently. “Been tired for a while.”

“It’s really draining.”

“I know,” he says again, and I feel my entire body begin to tremble. I don’t know what’s happening to me.

“Eren.”

“What is it?”

“Why do you think people leave?” I ask. “You think it’s because they’re tired?”

“Sometimes,” Eren admits. “Other times, I think they leave because life’s a bitch like that.”

“You ever worry someone’s gonna leave?” I ask, my chest feeling really tight, and Eren inhales sharply.

“What are you talking about, Levi?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, I lean forward and press my forehead against the steering wheel. “God, I wish I fucking _knew_.”

“Hey,” he says, voice all soft, and I hum to let him know I’m listening. “You remember when I told you I wasn’t gonna leave?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I remember.”

“Good,” Eren says. “’Cause I meant it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right,” I say, snorting, and rub my forehead hard. “Who else is gonna buy you lunch, right? That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

“No,” Eren says firmly. “I’m not going anywhere because…because I need you.”

I inhale sharply, my mind racing as I take in his words.

“You need me?” I echo.

“Yeah,” Eren replies, voice subdued. “And you need me too, right?”

It’s probably supposed to sound like a question, but it comes out more like a statement than anything.

“Yeah, Eren,” I say, breathless, and close my eyes as I listen to his soft breathing on the other end of the line. “I need you too.”

“So…we need each other,” he says. “That’s…that’s why neither one of us will leave.”

“Right,” I say, and I feel kind of shitty that I can’t think of anything else to say. “We…we’ll stay together.”

“Yeah,” Eren whispers. “Exactly.”

“God,” I breathe. “You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?”

“I try,” he says with a snort, and I chuckle softly. “Feeling better?”

“Kinda,” I say, sitting up. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem. You’d do the same for me.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would.” I glance at the clock. “Shit. I should probably go. I bet you’re tired.”

“I’m okay,” Eren says. “But…are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “You?”

“I’m okay,” he says again. “No worries.”

“Okay,” I say, and chew the inside of my cheek. “Um…see you.”

“God, you’re so awkward,” Eren says with a snort. “You never talk on the phone before or something?”

“I have!” I snarl, defensive, and Eren laughs loudly.

“I love riling you up, you know. It’s _hilarious_.”

“I’ll get you back,” I say evenly, and Eren snickers.

“Ooh, you gonna punish me?” he says flirtatiously, and my entire face heats up.

“Shut up,” I say, and he cackles into my ear.

“Your comebacks are a solid ten, Levi.”

“Not all of us sass people for a living,” I snap, irritated, and Eren hums.

“I don’t sass everyone. Just the special ones.”

“I feel honored,” I say dryly, and I can practically imagine him smirking.

“You should,” he says. “Mhm, I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

“Okay,” I say, and resist the urge to tell him to have sweet dreams or something equally disgusting. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” he replies, and when I hang up I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me.

I lean back against my seat, still holding my phone in my hands, and stare up at the ceiling. My entire body still hurts, but at least I can finally breathe now. I feel calmer, and I wonder if Eren really managed to have that great of an effect on me.

It’s a little terrifying to think that one person can influence me so much, but I find myself not caring in a strange sort of way. If I hadn’t talked to him, I probably would’ve still been driving around like a maniac. I hadn’t talked about the shitty day I had, but somehow it doesn’t matter.

Just having him is enough to make me forget about all of that. It sounds really stupid, but it’s the truth.

I… _do_ need him.


	19. Nineteen: Eren

11:38 am, my living room.

I stand near the couch with my hands curled into loose fists. I’m not feeling defensive or anything like that. It’s just comforting in a weird sort of way. Jean gives me a half-smile that makes my hair stand up on end. He hasn’t smiled at me in God knows how long. It’s weird how the gentle tug at the corner of his lips makes me feel uneasy.

He looks…relaxed.

I’m not sure why _that_ makes me uncomfortable. It does, though, and before I can question it he pulls me towards him in a bone-crushing sort of hug that makes my breath leave my lungs in a shocked gasp.

“Mina called me,” he murmurs against my ear.

I stiffen and he holds me tighter. He buries his face against the side of my neck, and exhales heavily against my skin. I let him continue to hold me like he’s afraid I’m gonna slip away again.

And hell, maybe I am. I can feel it building in my bones, a sort of twitch in my calves, the sudden urge to drop everything and just _run_. I want to give in to it, want to just _go_ , but I don’t. I’m kind of sick of it. Running away all the time, I mean. But there’s not much I can do. It’s one of my treasured coping mechanisms.

“Did she?” I say, my voice even and soft, and he releases me. “What’d she say?”

“She told me you were over there with a friend,” he says, eyebrows furrowing, and I nod to confirm the validity of her statement. “Said you were gonna crash over there. It was late when she called me.”

I swallow hard.

There’s something stuck in my throat, something large and obstructive, but my attempts to dislodge it are useless. My entire body feels heavy and exhausted when I think of the previous day. We had spent all of it cooped up in Mina’s tiny home office. Bertolt had done all the talking. I had gotten banished to the living room when Mina decided she wanted him to dig deeper into things. I hadn’t seen him again until this morning when we’d walked home.

He didn’t say a single word to me.

“We stayed there the whole day,” I assure him. I don’t want him to think I took off into the night like I usually do. He nods, relaxed, and steps back. I feel like I can breathe again.

“What happened?” he asks cautiously. I shrug.

“My friend needed help,” I say. Jean nods.

“Did you…?”

“Talk to her?” I ask. Jean nods again and I screw my lips up to the side. “Didn’t feel the need to. He needed her more.”

Jean sinks down into the couch slowly. I watch him, sliding my hands deep into my pockets, and wait for him to say something else. He seems to be thinking over my words. I wonder what he wants to say, what he’s _going_ to say, and before I can ask him he opens his mouth.

“She told me about the card incident,” he mutters, and I look at him sharply.

Incident.

The word has such a negative connotation.

Incident makes me think about all these unsavory situations. The Nick Incident, when he decided he wanted more than I was willing to give. The Levi Incident, when he decided to show off in front of his friends. The Historia Incident, when she decided she was sick of me treating her like shit. The Mikasa Incident, when she decided she wanted to leave me behind.

But the card incident hadn’t _really_ been an incident. I had just been doing what I always do: rejecting any and every bit of help that comes my way. It isn’t new or shocking by any means. It’s just what I do.

I swallow past the lump in my throat again and shrug, attempting to appear casual. I feel anything but casual. However, I have no intention of telling Jean that.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say. I try to gauge his reaction. It’s hard, though. I never know how he’s going to react until he does.

“She still wants to help you,” Jean says slowly. “She was serious about that, you know. I know things didn’t work out that great last time, but Mina’s different. I swear.”

“I know,” I say. I wonder if I really mean the words. “I get it. But I’m not entirely sold on the idea of becoming some kind of charity chase.”

Jean narrows his eyes. “You’re not a charity case. She really does want to help.”

“Only ‘cause you asked,” I reply with a derisive snort. Jean sighs.

“That’s not true.”

“Okay,” I say, because I have nothing else to say to that. I look at him. “Sorry for skipping school today, by the way. Yesterday was just rough.”

“I’m not mad,” Jean mutters, and I find myself raising my eyebrows. He shrugs a bit and rubs the back of his neck. “She told me you two were really shaken up.”

I nod slowly and chew the inside of my cheek. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me.

“Hey, Jean?”

“What?”

“You…uh, have you ever dealt with rape cases?” I ask. Jean’s eyes widen and he looks at me.

“Did something happen to you?”

“Not me,” I mumble. “Someone else.”

Suddenly, Jean gets a knowing look on his face.

“I’m more of a noise complaint slash petty crimes kind of guy,” Jean admits. “My unit doesn’t touch that stuff. They got special guys for that.”

I nod, feeling a little disheartened. I’d be more comfortable talking to Jean. And if Bertolt wanted to pursue things legally, I’d be more comfortable with _him_ talking to Jean. I don’t know if Bertolt wants anything to come out of this, and I’m not sure if Mina is required to legally do anything in this kind of situation. I don’t want to force anything onto Bertolt, but I do want to offer him a path to take if he chooses to do something with all of this.

“You know any of them?” I ask. Jean nods.

“Quite a few. We’re all working under the same roof, you know?” he says. He purses his lips. “I could get in touch with one of them if you want.”

I shrug.

“Can you get me a card or something? I’m not sure how far he wants to go with it.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Jean replies. He furrows his eyebrows. “Hey, you okay?”

I nod. “I’m fine.”

I know he can tell I’m bullshitting him again, but maybe he doesn’t want to rock the boat. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. I want to be a good friend for Bertolt, but I’m not sure how much he wants me involved with all of this. I guess I’ll just be on stand-by until he needs me.

“Okay,” Jean says. “If you say so.”

I nod, smiling one of my practiced smiles, and Jean sighs softly.

* * *

1:46 pm, the gymnasium.

Gym’s really getting on my nerves. I don’t know if it’s because I feel like I have to actually try or because I have to see Reiner. I bank heavily on the latter. Every time I pass by him, the urge to sock him right in the face gets stronger and stronger. My mind is still heavily fixated on what Bertolt had told me. While a large part of me wants to beat the shit out of Reiner, I know that won’t solve anything.

“Jaeger!”

I stop plotting ways to silently murder Reiner and look up at Mr. Zacharias. He has a stern look on his face as he approaches me, and I find myself silently wondering what the hell I did wrong now.

“Yeah?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my forehead. The basketball bounces hard against the ground somewhere next to me. I walk over to the sidelines where Mr. Zacharias is waiting.

“Go check on Levi,” he says.

“Levi?” I echo, and turn to do a quick scan of the room.

Sure enough, Levi’s nowhere in sight. He had been here earlier. We had talked as we left the locker room, and we had even been put together on the same team. One of the basketballs had hit him right in the gut, and his face had pinched up tightly in pain. But before I could ask him anything, he had gone and said something to Mr. Zacharias. I hadn’t noticed if he returned yet or not. Judging by the conversation I’m currently having, he hasn’t.

I purse my lips and turn back around. “Where is he?”

“Out in the hall,” Mr. Zacharias says. “He said he needed a drink.”

I find myself furrowing my eyebrows.

“Right. I’ll go find him,” I say. Mr. Zacharias nods and I walk over to the exit.

As I push open the heavy doors, I glance down the hallway at the water fountain. Levi’s nowhere to be found, and I find myself gnawing on the inside of my cheek.

“Where the hell did you go?” I mutter to myself.

I approach the locker room and push open the door quietly. I’m not even sure if he’s in there. I can hear the sound of running water. Hopefully, it’s him. Otherwise, it’d just be really weird.

I make my way back towards the bathroom, a smirk on my face. Fucker thinks he’s slick, huh? Getting a drink my _ass_. He probably just didn’t want to run through another basketball game again. Can’t say I blame him, though.

“You tryna cut, Ackerman?” I start to say, but my voice instantly falters as soon as I say his name.

Levi looks up in complete shock. My mouth runs dry as I look at his bare torso. His abdomen is covered in large, dark bruises. A gasp leaves my lips and I stumble backwards, my eyes fixated on his bare skin. Levi swears and washes the rest of the ointment on his hands off.

“L-Levi?” I stammer. He clenches his jaw.

“…Get out, Eren,” he whispers. He doesn’t sound angry, but something tells me that’ll change the longer I linger around.

I can’t move, though. I’m standing there, frozen, and suddenly I’m reminded of when he had seen the bruises Nick had left behind on me. I’d said something about people not beating me up, didn’t I?

 _God_.

How could I be so fucking careless?

“No,” I say, forcing myself to regain my composure, and I hesitantly approach him. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. He turns back to the sink and yanks his shirt back on. He caps the tube of ointment and shoves it into the pocket of his pants. “Look, you gonna go or not?”

“Not,” I say, my voice quiet, and he looks at me.

“I’m okay,” he says. I shake my head firmly.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” I whisper. He leans back against the sink and exhales loudly.

“I got used to it,” he mutters. I wrap my arms around myself as some form of comfort.

It doesn’t help at all, for the record.

“I thought you said it was bad to get used to the pain?” I ask him. My mind’s racing with all these different scenarios. I don’t know what to think. I’m not even sure my brain is fully functioning at this point. I stare down at the ground and bite my lip again.

“We should go back to class,” Levi says curtly, pushing himself off the sink. “Let’s go-”

“How do you expect us to go back to class after _this_?” I hiss. Levi narrows his eyes. “What the fuck happened to you?!”

He stays silent for a while. I run my fingers through my hair and begin to pace back and forth.

“What the…seriously, what the _hell_?” I continue.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Levi says sharply. I stop and stare at him. “Okay, Eren? I’ll explain everything later. Let’s just go, alright?”

I swallow hard.

“Promise?” I ask.

He looks a little surprised at that. But eventually, he nods.

“Promise,” he says. “Now let’s _go_.”

He brushes past me to leave. I stand still in the doorway to the bathroom, my arms still loosely wrapped around my stomach. It’s really cold in here, all of a sudden, and my entire body is this strange combination of numb and overly sensitive. I blink a few times to clear away the warm sensation building behind my eyelids.

I look hesitantly at the mirror. My eyes are rimmed red and teary, but at least I haven’t actually started crying. My mind instantly jumps back to the image of Levi’s stomach.

“Shit, man,” I mutter, and my voice sounds obnoxiously loud in the silent room.

Taking a shuddery breath, I turn on my heels and leave the locker room.

* * *

3:13 pm, my bedroom.

I’m sitting on my bed while Levi stands over me, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. I can’t look at his face. I don’t know what I’ll do if I do. Cry, probably, which is the last thing I want. I swallow hard. My room feels really, really cold.

“Show me,” I whisper.

Levi’s hands drop to his side. Then, he reaches down and pulls the hem of his shirt up. Once it’s off, he balls it up and holds it tight in his hands. I look at his abdomen. He’s pretty built, which I figure is due to football, but I could care less about that right now.

My only focus is on the bruises on his stomach. They’re mostly concentrated towards the center, fleshy part, which I’m kind of glad to see. There isn’t much bruising on his ribs, so at least I know he hasn’t hurt them.

I hesitantly reach my hand out towards him. He looks down at me impassively before he steps closer towards me. I swallow thickly and lightly trace the bruises.

It’s _sickening_.

My eyes get that tell-tale warmth again. I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m grateful that no one is here but us. I don’t know how I would explain this to my parents, never mind Jean.

“Turn around,” I say hoarsely. My hand falls back into my lap and he turns slowly.

The bruising on his back is the same dark blue as the ones on his stomach. I figure he got pushed back against something, but I’m too scared to ask. I don’t want him to confirm any of my thoughts, especially since I have so many scenarios playing out in my head.

I press lightly against one of the bruises. He hisses in pain and I instantly apologize.

“When…when did this happen?” I ask.

He turns back around.

“Over the weekend,” he mumbles. He stares down at the shirt in his hands. “The night I called you, actually.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, running my hand shakily through my hair. “And you didn’t think of _saying_ anything?”

“I usually don’t,” he tells me. I feel my entire body stiffen.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, staring up at him shock. “This has happened before?!”

Levi looks at me silently before he nods. I feel a wave of nausea hit me. I hunch over and grip my hair in my hands.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling incredibly sick, and the bed sinks down next to me.

“Relax,” Levi mumbles, and pushes my shoulders back.

“How do you expect me to relax?” I ask, and turn my head to look at him.

He doesn’t immediately reply. He keeps pushing until I give up and let my back hit the bed. He lies on his side and watches me. His shirt is still off, and I find myself staring at his stomach again.

“Where do you want me to start?” he asks softly. I turn on my side and face him.

“The beginning,” I whisper, my voice cracking, and Levi sighs softly.

“C’mere,” he says, and pulls at my sleeve until my body is pasted to him. I don’t realize that I’m shaking until he runs his palm up and down the length of my arm repeatedly.

The warmth behind my eyelids dissipates and I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I bite down on my tongue hard. A metallic taste floods my mouth. I suck in a deep breath and try to force myself to calm down. I can’t, though, and Levi wraps his arm around me.

“Please calm down,” he says, his voice desperate, and I shake my head.

“I can’t,” I whisper, on the verge of full on _sobbing_ , and something brushes against my forehead.

It takes my brain a while to realize that it’s his lips. He continues pressing little kisses against my cheeks, and the tip of my nose, before returning back to my forehead.

I feel pathetic that he’s the one comforting _me_. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn't  _I_ be trying to help _him_?

“You okay?”

I curl my legs up towards my stomach and don’t answer. I force myself to nod and he pulls back from me. I find myself mourning the loss of body heat, but I can’t see his face when we’re that close together.

“I’m fine,” I mumble, and meet his eyes.

He nods but keeps his hand on the small of my back. It sends shivers racing up and down my spine.

“Shit really hit the fan over the summer,” he starts, his voice low, and I have to almost strain to hear him. “It…well, it really fucking sucked. I got sent to live with my uncle. He hated me the second I walked through his front door.”

I chew hard on my lip.

“He’s the one who…?” I start, unable to finish, and he nods curtly.

“He gets drunk a lot,” he says, exhaling heavily, and I feel his fingers curl into a fist around my shirt. I reach back and hold his hand, tangling our fingers together tight enough to hurt. It’s uncomfortable to have my arm twisted like that, but it gives us both something to hold onto. “He’s your typical, angry, abusive drunk. Not much else to say other than that.”

“How often does he do it?” I ask, even though I really don’t want to know the answer.

“Enough that I’m always hiding it,” Levi says back evenly. I go quiet and his expression softens. “You’re scared.”

“For you,” I say, slowly, and he furrows his eyebrows.

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not handling it,” I mutter, looking at his stomach. “That’s putting up with it.”

Levi scowls.

“I can’t do anything, Eren,” he says firmly. “He’s all I’ve got.”

“No he’s not,” I whisper. “You have so many people who support you, who care about you! You don’t have to put up with that. You…you can _tell_ someone.”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You know what I meant,” I say, holding his hand tighter. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not the one beating the shit out of me,” he tries to joke, but I don’t laugh. He sighs softly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I should’ve noticed sooner.”

“You couldn’t have. It’s not like I was obvious about it.”

“I know. I just…”

“Hey,” he says quietly, but I don’t look at him.

“That’s why you freaked, right?” I murmur. “When you saw my bruises that day. You thought someone did the same thing to me, right?”

He nods and squeezes my fingers a few times.

“I was so worried,” he says, running his thumb over my knuckles. “I was sick to my stomach. I wanted…I wanted to protect you from whoever did that. You scared the shit out of me.”

I swallow hard and sit up, staring down at him. He doesn’t let go of my hand I don’t want him to. It’s the only thing keeping me together.

“I don’t want him to hurt you anymore,” I whisper. Levi rolls onto his back with a grimace.

“I’m waiting until I turn eighteen,” he starts. “The second that happens, I’m getting the hell out of there.”

“What about now?” I ask. “What are you gonna do _now_?”

“Just get through it,” Levi says, using his free hand to run his fingers through his hair. He tucks his behind his head and looks at me. “That’s all I can do, right?”

My shoulders slump down. He pulls on our joined hands and I rest my forehead against his chest, making sure that my body doesn’t press against his stomach. He lets go of my hand to rub it against my back, I curl my fingers into my scratchy sheets and breathe his scent in.

“You’re gonna be okay,” I say against his skin. My lips begin to tremble and I press them against his chest. I laugh bitterly and shake my head. “God, I should be comforting you. Not the other way around.”

“I don’t mind,” he says timidly. “You’re distracting me.”

“In a good way?” I ask, lifting my head, and he nods.

“A good way,” he says.

We stare at each other then, not saying anything. I sit up slowly and he follows after me. He leans forward towards me and I hold my breath, keeping my eyes open as his close. He presses our foreheads together. I exhale shakily and reach up to tangle my fingers into his hair. He wraps his arms around me and _squeezes_.

“You were right, you know?” he says mildly. I chew the inside of my cheek.

“About what?”

“Us needing each other,” he says. “I…I really fucking need you, Eren.”

“I’m right here,” I tell him, my voice taking on a desperate tone, and he sinks his fingers into my back like he’s trying to melt into me. “I’m always gonna be right here.”

“I know,” he whispers, sounding so broken and small that my breath physically gets stuck in my throat.

I can’t think a response. My eyes squeeze shut and I move my hands so that I’m cupping his face. He leans in my touch, and I let him press me back against the bed. He holds himself up above me with his hands on either side of my head. I look at him, waiting for him to say something.

“Thank you,” he finally says, and my entire body goes stiff.

I can only nod in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying the holidays! I wish I could have written you a fluffy chapter for Christmas, but that just wasn't the plan for this chapter. Hopefully you all enjoyed regardless!


	20. Twenty: Levi

Eren hasn’t looked me in the eye for a good hour.

I chew the inside of my cheek and pick at a loose string on my jeans. My shirt’s back on, thankfully. I don’t think I could stand him looking at the bruises any longer. He had a weird look in his eyes. I couldn’t place it at the time, but now I know what it is.

Anger.

I’ve seen him angry before, sure, but never _that_ much. It’s terrifying, and I find myself hoping I’ll never have to see something like it again.

“Hey,” I say, my voice sounding a little rough, and he finally looks up at me. I resist the urge to sigh in relief and force a little grin on my face. “I, uh, I should head home.”

Eren scowls. “He’ll hurt you again.”

I shake my head.

“Nah. I’m covered for the week.”

Eren glares at me and I find the grin on my face instantly slipping away. I rake my fingers through my hair and sigh softly.

“Just forget about it, Eren.”

“Are you shitting me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and I feel kind of stupid all of a sudden. “You want me to _forget_ this. Okay. Sure. Let me just _forget_ that…that…” he trails off and leans back against the wall. “Jesus fucking Christ, Levi.”

I lean back too, resting my arms on my knees, and look over hesitantly.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t,” he replies quietly. I scoff slightly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately, Levi? That’s not being fine.”

I swallow roughly and shrug, trying to appear casual, but the truth is that I’m feeling anything but relaxed right now. I feel tense, like a rubber band about to snap, and I’m not sure how to get rid of the itchy feeling crawling its way under my skin.

“What if he takes it too far?” Eren continues on, still speaking in that soft tone, and I wonder where all his usual snark has gone. “What if one day he does more than punch you?”

I don’t know how to answer. I press my lips together tightly and shrug again. Eren laughs bitterly.

“You never thought about it, have you?” he says. It’s probably meant to be a question, but he sounds like he already knows the answer.

“No, I haven’t,” I say after a few minutes of silence. I feel like he’s reprimanding me, but I decide not to say anything. It’s not like he’s saying anything wrong. I should have thought about that, especially by now. I should be worried that things might escalate to something that’ll do more harm than a bruise.

But I don’t. I don’t think about it much except for when it happens. I don’t think about his fist slamming into me until he punches me. I don’t think about the smell of whiskey until he’s yelling in my face. I don’t think about being weak until he tells me I am. I don’t think about being dead until he makes me wish I was.

“Why-”

“What’s the fucking point, Eren?” I ask tiredly. He falls quiet, eyes narrowed, but he lets me talk. I’m grateful for it. “Why _should_ I? What the hell am I gonna do if he goes too far? You’ve seen the fucking bruises. I’m sure you can figure out what I do when he hits me.”

Eren looks down at the bed. I release a shaky breath. I can hear my heart pulsing, _pounding_ in my ears. I try to drown out the sound and knock my head back against the wall. I clench my jaw and grip onto the fabric of my jeans hard enough to make my knuckles go white.

“You want to know why I don’t fight back, right?” I ask slowly. “You want to know why I just sit there and take it, right?”

“I don’t, Levi,” Eren says. He sounds a little sick, but I don’t care.

I want him to know. I want him to know why. It’s not because I want him to understand me better. It’s because I’m sick of only thinking it. I want to get it out there. I want someone to fucking _know_ already.

“He’s my uncle,” I say. “Not just any uncle, though. My mom’s brother. The last fucking thing I have of her is someone who hates my damn guts.”

“Jesus,” Eren breathes out, and I laugh condescendingly.

“I know. Real fucking sick, isn’t it? I swear God has it out for me. Someone up there wants to fuck up my entire life.” I swallow roughly and shake my head. “I ruined my mom’s life. She had dreams. She had all this shit she wanted to do. Then she got knocked up with me and she had to put her entire life aside for some fucking kid.”

“That’s what parents do,” Eren says, his voice hard, and I snort. “They put time aside for their kids. You didn’t ruin her life, damn it, she was just-”

“My father didn’t. Put time aside for me, I mean. He fucking jumped ship as soon as he heard he was gonna have someone calling him _dad_ in nine months.”

“Levi-”

“That’s why,” I say hoarsely. “That’s why I’m not gonna say shit. He’s all I have left, Eren. Is it so wrong to want to hold onto that? Is it so wrong for me to want to hold onto the last part of my mom?”

“You deserve better,” Eren says, glaring hard at something on the bed, and I find I have to look away from the intense expression on his face.

“Do I really?” I mutter to the ceiling. “I’m not that much different than him. Remember what I did to you that day in the locker room? You weren’t saying anything that wasn’t true. But it pissed me off that you were right. It pissed me off that you could tell I was a coward even though I tried so hard to hide it. That’s why I lashed out. I got scared. But you never did anything to me, right? You never deserved that. It was just easier to hurt you than him.”

“You’re not him, Levi,” Eren replies. There’s a certain tone to his voice that I can’t quite pick up on. “You’re nothing like him. You know that, right?”

“Maybe,” I say. I feel exhausted all of a sudden. “We have the same blood running through our veins though, don’t we?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Eren whispers. “Sometimes we’re not the people we think we are. Sometimes we’re so different that it’s scary, but there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t always have to fit into something.”

I suck in a breath at that. Eren has the ability to make my thoughts a jumbled mess in a few sentences or less, and I find myself struggling to think of a response. I look at him to see what kind of expression he has on his face. He looks back at me unflinchingly.

“You ever listen to yourself?” I ask. “You ever take your own advice?”

“Should I?” he asks, scoffing, and I shrug.

“I don’t know, should you?” I ask.

“Nah,” Eren says. He shakes his head. “I don’t need the help.”

I look at him carefully. Assuming he’s not actually all bruised up like I am, he’s fine physically. But there’s always been an air around Eren. It’s always reeked of pain, something I picked up on before ever talking to him, but kids in school don’t give a shit about that stuff. They don’t see someone in pain when they look at him. They see an asshole trying to make everyone else miserable. They see a good fuck when they’re drunk and willing to grind against anyone with a pretty face. They see a kid who doesn’t give a fuck about school because he’s trying to be edgy, but the truth is that life has just really been shitty to him.

Or maybe I’m underestimating the observation skills of my peers. Maybe they _do_ know he’s in pain. Maybe it’s so obvious that we’d all have to be crazy to ignore it. I know someone else besides me can see it. Someone else _has_ to. But that doesn’t mean they care, right? People look the other way when they see shit they don’t like. It’s easier, isn’t it? It’s easier to pretend than it is to face the truth.

I should know. I’ve been doing it for God knows how long.

“Right,” I say instead.

I don’t voice my thoughts because I’m not Eren. I’m not willing to be honest, to just say what I mean without worrying about consequences. And maybe I envy him for that. He hasn’t spent months trying to figure out which words would stop him from getting hit or not. He hasn’t spent months internalizing all this shit because he’s afraid to upset the precarious sense of balance he’s finally managed to achieve.

Eren’s about the closest I’ve seen someone get to freedom, and I hate it more than anything I've ever hated before it. I hate how I’m too scared to get myself up there too. I hate how I don’t know _how_ to get there. Realizing that, actually putting that thought into real fucking _words_ , makes me sick to my stomach. I feel like he’s so far ahead of me, so up on another level, that there’s no way I’ll be able to reach him.

And hell, maybe I’m not supposed to.

Maybe I’m meant to be stuck while he moves on. And God, why the hell should he stay with _me_? He could be friends with anyone he wants, _be_ with anyone he wants, and yet…here we are.

Here I am, seeing an Eren the kids at school won’t ever get the pleasure of seeing. Here I am, learning things about him other people won’t learn. Here I am, falling deeper and deeper into him with no concept of finally reaching the end. There’s just an endless sea of _Eren_ , of all he is and all I’ve yet to see him be, and it’s terrifying. It’s terrifying that he’s become a part of me, a part of me so intricately infused with the rest of me that there’s no possible way to get him out. And fuck, I don’t _want_ to. I want to be selfish, want to keep him as _mine_ , but that’s…impossible.

He’s too good for me.

That’s why I’m thinking all of this now, isn’t it? It’s because I know Eren is too goddamn beautiful for me to keep to myself. He had said he was sexy before, called himself a catch and everything, and hell, I agreed with him. But I played it off because I knew. I knew he could do better than me. Maybe I’m being ridiculous, or thinking too hard about it, but I knew as soon as he told me not to like him too much that I had already fallen for him. It’s not love, probably not even close, but it’s something that wraps itself around my heart, seizes it until it physically _aches_ , and I just…fucking _want_ him.

But why would he want me? People at school seem to like me well enough, but they don’t know me. They see me as the captain of the football team. That’s all I am to them. That’s all I’ll ever _be_ to them. And, honestly, is there anything else to me besides that? What talents besides football do I have?  What good is it being the captain of a team if that’s all you’ll fucking be? What do you become when the team's not around?

“—Levi?”

I look over at Eren.

“Eren.”

He furrows his eyebrows before he relaxes, his expression softening, and I wonder how pathetic I must look right now.

“Stay.”

This is the third time he’s said that to me, right? This is the third time he’s told me to stay. Why does he want me to stay? Isn’t he sick of me? Isn’t he sick of trying so hard to break down my walls? Someone had said that to me. Back in freshman year, I mean.

A girl named Hannah had a crush on me. I wasn’t interested, and it turns out after a while she wasn’t either. Reiner said she didn’t want to put in the effort. She wanted an easy high school relationship, and she knew she couldn’t get that from me. God knows who she ended up dating, but she still smiles at me in the hallway. I always thought it looked a little sad, like she pitied me or something, or maybe I’m just making that up.

I don’t know why Eren keeps trying. I don’t know he doesn’t give up like Hannah did. He can get anyone he wants. I’ve heard about it. Kids at school might talk shit, but there’s no denying that Eren’s an attractive guy. Everyone can see it, and there are so many of them that appreciate it.

“Why?” I find myself asking before I can think about it. Eren doesn’t look surprised. In fact, he looks like I’ve said exactly what he expected me to.

“I want you to,” Eren says. His voice has that soft, breathy quality to it again, and I wonder if now’s a good time to tell him how badly it fucks me up. “I really don’t want you to go home.”

“What about your parents? And your brother?” I’m stalling, now, and I’m sure it’s obvious.

“Brother-in-law,” he corrects mildly, and he shakes his head. “They won’t care. I’ll say something happened at home. You know, like your parents locked you out of the house and you don’t have a key. And they’re on some kind of business trip or something.”

I swallow hard. If I wasn’t currently in the process of trying to keep myself from falling apart, maybe I would’ve laughed.

“What high school student doesn’t have a key?”

“You never know,” Eren says vaguely. He chews his lower lip. “I mean…unless you want to go back.”

I think of Kenny, knocked out in the arm chair with a bottle of Jack cradled under his arm, and try to repress the shiver that works its way steadily down my spine.

“I don’t,” I admit quietly. Eren nods.

“Then stay. Please, Levi. I…” he pauses. I look at him, watching as he works up the courage to finish his sentence, my blood rushing in my ears and racing through my veins. “I _want_ you. To stay, I mean.”

I exhale in a rush. He looks at me hopefully, and all I can focus is on his eyes.

Green.

They’re green, and I’ve always known that, but I’ve never paid attention to it before. I’m not paying much attention to them know, either, but I never realized how quickly they’re able to calm me down just by looking at them.

“I’ll stay,” I mutter, my voice cracking as I speak, and Eren nods.

He crawls off the bed. I watch his shirt rise up as he does and wonder if I should focus my attention elsewhere.

“You can sleep on the bed,” he says, walking over to the closet. He pulls out a thick blanket and tosses it onto the ground. “I’ll take the floor. Just toss me a pillow.”

I stare at him. Eren raises an eyebrow.

“Or don’t-”

“Let’s share,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Eren’s jaw drops a little bit, and when I see his shocked expression I feel my ears slowly begin to burn.

“Or…that,” Eren says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean. Okay. Yeah.”

I nod stiffly. He turns back to his closet and tosses me a pair of sweats and a shirt.

“You can wear these. I’ll wash your clothes tonight. You can wear them tomorrow and I’ll give you a hoodie or something to cover your shirt. So it doesn’t look like you wore the same thing twice, you know?”

“Okay. Uh…thanks.”

“Sure,” Eren says, and he gives me the first smile I’ve seen in what feels like forever.

Something inside of me feels like it’s bursting open, but I try not to think about it as I get off the bed and grab up the clothes.

“Bathroom’s the first door on the left if you’d rather change in there,” Eren says, already beginning to shimmy out of his own jeans, and I find my throat getting a little tight. His back is towards me, something that I’m grateful for.

I don’t know how he’ll react if he were to see me. Probably make a joke about me checking him out. He finally gets his jeans off, and I watch him kick them to a corner of his room. My eyes are glued to his thighs, looking for any kind of dark mark, but I don’t see anything. His tan skin is flawless, unblemished, and I find myself releasing a loud sigh.

Eren turns around at that, and I grip the bundle of clothes in my hands tight. He looks down at himself before glancing back up at me.

“They’re gone,” he says. I nod.

“Good,” I say, trying to crack a joke, and grin at him. “I’d have to kick his ass if I saw them again.”

I expect Eren to at least smirk, or roll his eyes, or do _something_ , but he doesn’t. He just looks at me, head tilted slightly to the side, and now I feel like he’s studying me.

“What?” I ask, self-conscious, and he shrugs.

“Nothing. Get outta here, Peeping Tom.”

Ah, there it is. The good old Eren Jaeger snark finally appears. I roll my eyes and stride over to the door.

“Please. There’s nothing worth looking at over there.”

“I’m sorry we’re not all muscle pigs,” he says sweetly, and I have the sudden urge to throw something at him.

“You’re making me question our friendship. _Again_.”

“Rude,” he says, and in a display of pure immaturity, I stick my tongue out at him. All I can hear as I close the door behind me is his loud, obnoxious laughter.

I’ve never heard a better sound in my life.

* * *

“Levi? Levi, wake up.”

I open my eyes. The first thing I see is the ceiling. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. I think of the earlier events of the day and groan quietly. I look over at Eren, who’s propped up on his elbow beside me. He has his lamp on, and it sheds a soft, warm yellow glow onto everything.

“What?” I ask, my voice all gravelly from disuse, and he bites into his lower lip.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I mutter, pushing my hair back away from my forehead. Eren frowns.

“You were moving around a lot in your sleep,” he mutters. “I thought you were having a nightmare or something.”

A nightmare, huh?

I haven’t had one since Mom died, but I guess now’s as good of a time as any to have one. I rub my eyes and keep my fingers pressed over my eyelids for a few seconds. The pressure distracts me from the racing of my heart. I feel a little damp, and I realize it’s because I’m soaked in sweat.

“Do you usually have nightmares?” he asks. I shake my head.

“I haven’t had one for a while,” I say.

“Do you want some water or something?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I am a little thirsty, but I don’t want to bother Eren. He’s already losing sleep because of me.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Eren,” I say. He nods slowly and reaches over to turn off the lamp. The room is bathed in darkness again.

I rest my arms behind my head and stare up at the ceiling. I can’t see anything, obviously, but I don’t exactly want to keep looking at Eren. That’d be creepy, even if the darkness would hide it.

“Hey,” he says, quietly, and I wonder if he’s one of those people who can’t go back to sleep after waking. Probably is, considering how he sounds wide awake.

“Mhm?”

“Are you still awake?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shit, sorry. I’ll shut up.”

“What is it, Eren?”

“Thank you,” he says. “For staying, I mean. I’m glad you’re here and not there.”

I think of his warmth beside me. I think of his soft breaths, of the way our shoulders are pressed together because his mattress is too small to allow for any kind of personal space. I think of the way we had clung onto each other when I told him about Kenny, about the way he’d cried and let me just _hold_ him.

“I’m glad too,” I say. It’s not the most earth-shattering thing I’ve said tonight, but I can hear the little hitch in Eren’s breath. “I’m glad you wanted me to.”

“Who else would I want here?” he asks, but the way he says it sounds like it’s more of a rhetorical question than anything.

I don’t respond and turn onto my side to face him. He must hear me do it, because the blanket we’re covered with tugs a little as he does the same. We’re breathing the same air now, close enough that I can hear every single breath he takes, and I wonder if he knows how loudly my heart is beating.

I’m not sure which of us moves first, but suddenly we’re crashing our lips together. I’m not sure how we’ve managed to not miss, but I decide not to question it as I squeeze my eyes shut. He gasps into my mouth when I grab at his shirt to bring him closer. He tangles his fingers into my hair and laughs a little, pulling away from me so he can speak.

“Have I ever told you I have a thing for blonds?” he asks. “Well, I don’t really, but things have changed.”

“No,” I say, and lean back in to kiss him again. “But thanks for the info.”

We’ve calmed down now, our touches less desperate, less rushed. I run my fingers along the back of his arm and take delight in the goosebumps that erupt in the path I leave behind. We’ve abandoned kissing in favor of just keeping our faces close together, close enough that I swear I can _hear_ him blinking.

“You know,” he starts slowly. “That’s not exactly how I imagined my first kiss.”

“First kiss?” I echo.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he says, and I wonder what kind of expression he’s making right now. “Kissing’s just…really intimate, you know? Not exactly the kind of vibes I wanna give to someone I’m fucking for fun.”

I swallow hard. It doesn’t bother me that Eren’s had sex with people. Not in the sense that I’m disgusted by it, I mean. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants with his body. It’s _his_. It’s not my place, or anyone else’s, to judge him for that.

But I’m just…surprised. I didn’t think he made the distinction, but I guess that’s because I’ve never asked. I feel flustered when he talks about sex. I’m not inexperienced or anything, I just…never thought of it like that. Something that I could talk about freely, I mean. The only time I had sex was with a cheerleader from another school, and the thought of doing something that intimate with something I didn’t give a shit about made me sick to my stomach. She had been cool with it, thankfully, but it was still a decision I regretted to this day.

“Wow,” I say, still trying to process what he’s told me, and he scoffs quietly.

“Bet you thought I kissed someone by now.”

“Maybe,” I say, and when he stiffens in my hold I slide my hand to his waist and give a little squeeze. “Hey. I’m not judging you.”

“…People did in freshman year,” he says slowly. “I never told anyone that, you know? Historia was my best friend then and she never knew.”

“Never knew what?” I ask, though I’m afraid.

“That I was easy. I fucked around with people a lot and suddenly I was nothing more than _easy._ But then more people started partying and stuff, and I was just like everyone else there. You know, just another drunk horny kid. No one gave a fuck when they wanted me. It was only when they didn’t that the name-calling started.”

“Fuck them,” I say instantly. “Who cares what they think? They’re just assholes.”

“I know,” Eren says, tangling our legs together. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“I’m glad you did. You probably needed to get it off your chest.”

“Maybe,” Eren whispers. He doesn’t say anything for a while and I wonder if he’s falling asleep. Then he clears his throat quietly and shifts a bit. “It’s a coping mechanism, you know? It distracts me. It’s not like I’m desperate or anything I just…sometimes I don’t want to feel anything. Sometimes I just want to escape from it all.”

“It’s okay, Eren,” I say, and I mean the words more than anything. “I’m not holding that against you or anything.”

“It’s not,” he insists. “It’s all empty. It doesn’t mean anything. But I keep trying like it will someday. Like suddenly things will change and I’ll be fine. But they won’t. And I’m just stuck in the same shitty patterns and I’m fucking _sick_ of it.”

“You’re allowed to try, though,” I say. “You’re allowed to try something to make yourself happy. And if it doesn’t work, you’re allowed to keep trying until you find something that does. You deserve to be happy.”

He goes quiet again. I feel oddly comfortable, more at ease than I’ve ever been, and I wonder how much of that feeling is tied to Eren.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he asks, amused, and I manage a one-shouldered shrug.

“I try.”

“Thanks, though. For saying that, I mean.”

“I meant it,” I say firmly. “Every word. I meant all of it, Eren.”

He falls silent again. And then, before I can add something else, he kisses me softly. It’s more of a peck than anything, but it makes my heart race just as fast as before.

“Goodnight, Levi,” he says.

I chew my lip to stop myself from smiling, thankful that the room is currently shrouded in darkness.

“Goodnight, Eren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I can't believe I wrote 20 chapters for this fic. It wasn't supposed to happen. But this is so great and I'm so happy ahhhh~~
> 
>  
> 
> Also I really, really hope I didn't make Levi come off as whiny in this chapter. That's not my intention at all. The whole purpose of his internal monologue was to show his vulnerabilities. As the story progresses, Levi begins to show more and more of himself. I intended to make it seem like he was revealing himself to you guys, but as I was editing I couldn't help but begin to panic. Hopefully I'm just being silly about it haha.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading! See you next chapter :)


	21. Twenty-One: Eren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited because I got my wisdom teeth out today and I'm doped up on meds lmao. I promise I'll go back and fix everything later.

My room is pitch black when I open my eyes. I roll over onto my side and look at my clock blearily.

5:28.

Great. Two measly minutes until I have to get up.

I shove an arm under my head and turn back onto my side. Levi is still sleeping. His face looks smooth, free of any and all worries. I swallow roughly as memories of last night race back to me. It’s hard to fully realize that all of it really happened. It hadn’t been a figment of my imagination, even though it really feels like it.

The alarm goes off and I curse loudly.  I reach for the clock blindly and smash down on the snooze button. I hear Levi shifting beside me. I turn around to face him.

“Morning,” I whisper, not wanting to shatter the calm silence pressing around us like a comforting blanket. He groans a bit and snuggles further into the pillow.

“Morning,” he mutters. "What time is it?”

“Five thirty,” I answer. “What time do you usually get up?”

“Six,” he answers. He sits up and runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, though.”

“Right,” I say with a nod. “I washed your clothes last night, by the way. Shower’s free if you wanna use it. There’s a bunch of new toothbrushes under the sink. I’ll go make us breakfast.”

Levi nods and gets up to grab his clothes and the clean towel I set out for him before heading to the bathroom room. I set out my own clothes for when I take my shower and go downstairs to make something. A quick scan of the fridge and pantry tells me I’ll have to go simple, so I decide on making French toast.

I’m in the middle of finishing up the last slice when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Levi grins when I hand him one of the plates before I go back upstairs to take a quick shower. Once I’m dressed and my hair is decently dried, I join him at the table.

“We should skip.”

“Skip?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “Are you being serious?”

“Why not?” he says with a shrug “We barely got any sleep last night. It’s not like we’ll be performing at our highest potential anyway.”

“You’re so full of shit,” I say with a smirk. “Alright, punk. We’ll skip.”

“That didn’t take much convincing,” he says slowly. “Were you, perhaps, thinking the same thing?”

“Shut up,” I say instantly, rolling my eyes.

Levi smiles again and continues eating. The sight makes me feel a little weird. He seems really happy. I’ve seen it all before. Him smiling and shit, I mean. But something feels distinctly different about it this time. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s a sight I wish I could see more often.

When we finish eating, we clean our plates and pull on our jackets. Levi looks at his phone for a few seconds, and I rock back and forth on my heels awkwardly.

“Your uncle?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, furrowing his eyebrows. He shakes his head and shoves his phone into his pocket. “Forget about it. Let’s go out.”

“Where are we gonna go at six in the morning?”

“Um...somewhere?” he offers hesitantly. He runs his fingers through his still damp hair. “I didn’t really think about it.”

I watch as a few drops of water roll down the side of his face.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“Huh?”

I take one of the clean dish towels my mom keeps stocked in one of the kitchen drawers and use it to dry his hair. His eyes go a little wide, but I focus on the movement of my hands. Once I’m satisfied, I fold the wet towel up and smirk.

“You never dry your hair before or something?”

“I dry my hair all the time.”

“Then you should be good at it, right?”

“Fuck off,” he retorts, but he laughs as he says it. I toss the towel on the counter and jerk my head towards the door.

“C’mon, let’s go before someone wakes up.”

He probably gets that I mean Jean, judging by the knowing expression on his face. We head outside after donning our shoes. The bitter December air hits me straight to the face. I regret leaving my scarf inside, but it’s not like I’m about to go back and get it. We’re already outside.

“Hey, Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For letting me stay over, I mean. You were right. I didn’t want to get back.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I say. “I—”

“Wanted me to stay. I know. But still. Thanks.”

I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed, and kick lightly at a rock on the sidewalk.

“So, um,” I pause, clearing my throat, and he looks over at me curiously. “Last night. That was…yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “I’m sorry. I was probably out of line.”

I swallow hard. “I wanted it.”

Levi sucks in an audible breath at that. I look at him hesitantly before I shrug.

“I mean, dude, I’ve literally had a thing for you since like freshman year.”

Levi snorts quietly. “I thought you weren’t being serious about that. Didn’t you say you got over me or something?”

“I may have lied.”

“Right,” Levi says, nodding slowly. “But really? Freshman year?”

I shrug.

“You were out of my league. I always enjoy a challenge.”

“I was never out of your league,” Levi insists. I scoff at that, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at him.

“Are you shitting me? You’re _Levi Ackerman_. You know, captain of the football team, popular as hell, every person’s walking wet dream? No one can touch you, man.”

“I think you’re being a little ridiculous, Eren,” Levi says. I shrug.

“Whatever. Everyone’s thought of it at least once.”

“Well what about you,” he says, raising his eyebrows at me. “What if I said you’re out of _my_ league?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Do I look like I am?”

I choose not to respond to that. Not at first, at least.

“Don’t say shit like that,” I mumble. “How could I possibly be out of your league?”

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t really have a thing for you until we became friends. I’m sure you’ve heard what people say about you. Yeah, they’re all assholes. But everyone knows that you’re a real fucking catch, Eren.”

I inhale sharply at that and try to pretend that the words have no effect on me.

“What do you think, then?” I say before I can stop myself. Levi shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“They’re right.”

I swallow hard past the sudden lump in my throat. Before I can reply, Levi grabs my wrist and starts running. I stumble after him for a bit before I finally get my balance.

“Hey, what the hell?!”

“Trust me!” he says, turning his head to look at me. There’s a huge fucking grin on his face that honestly makes me feel a little weak in my knees. I smile back at him and let him continue to drag me along.

We run down the sidewalk for a while until the buildings begin to melt into trees and overgrown bushes. I find myself furrowing my eyebrows when Levi finally slows his pace. He lets go of my wrist and I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t mourn the loss of heat.

“Where are we going?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me.

He leads me to a chain-link fence covered in overgrown vines. He yanks on the lock a few times. It’s rusted to the point that it all but crumbles apart in his hands. He shoves the gate open and begins to walk through. I linger awkwardly outside until the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes gets faint to the point that I almost can’t hear it any longer.

I jog lightly until I’m trailing after Levi again. He leads me past a line of thick vegetation until the path opens up. I stare at the iron framework beneath my feet, my eyes narrowed, and yank on the edge of his jacket to get him to stop.

“Train tracks?” I ask, confused.

He nods. “It hasn’t been used in twenty years or something.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Really? Why not?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. That’s just what I heard.”

Levi begins walking with a purpose again. I follow after him blindly, my eyes still trained on the tracks beneath my feet. He stops in front of one of the train cars and yanks the door open. It rattles back against the other side loudly before he climbs up. Levi offers his hand to help me up and I grab onto it tightly.

Levi fumbles around with something. Suddenly, there’s a warm orange light emanating from between his finger. He reaches up to light the lantern hanging off the wall before he stubs the match out and brushes his hands off.

“Not bad for six in the morning, right?” he asks, sounding a little breathless.

I walk over to the wall opposite from us. My heavy boots sound obnoxiously loud as I walk across the train car, but ignore it until I’m right where I want to be. It’s a little hard to realize what I’m looking at, but before I know it I’m yanking down the glossy picture and looking at it intensely.

The boy is undoubtedly Levi. He has the same grey eyes, the same careless smile I wish I could see more often, and the same calm aura. The woman looks like an almost carbon copy of him. She’s smiling too. It’s impossible to ignore her beauty. There’s something fragile about her, something that makes me want to protect her despite not even knowing her. She’s the kind of classic beauty all those old-ass books we have to read in school describe, and it honestly leaves me a little short of breath. It’s hard to believe that someone like that actually exists, but there she is.

“She’s beautiful,” I say softly, running my thumb over the smooth surface of the photo.

“That’s my mom,” Levi whispers back. I swallow hard. “That…that’s, uh, the last time I saw her alive.”

“Shit, man, I’m—”

He shakes his head. “It’ fine. I wouldn’t have taken you here if I didn’t want to,” he says.

I feel myself relaxing at that.

“How’d you find this place?” I ask, pressing the thin piece of tape attached to the picture back up against the wall.

Levi shrugs and drops himself down hard onto the ground.

“I didn’t,” he replies slowly. “I guess you can say it found me.”

I can feel my eyebrows pressing together as I sit down next to him. Our feet dangle out of the train car. The air is slowly making my ears and all ten of my fingers numb as hell, but I don’t want to fuck this up. There’s something oddly wonderful about being here, shoulder to shoulder with Levi, in a place that clearly means a lot to him. I’d be damned if I were to ruin that. For once, for just one time in my life, I want things to work out like they’re supposed to.

“What do you mean?” I ask, pressing my knees up to my chest and linking my arms around my legs. He shrugs and picks up a dead leaf from the ground. He twists the stem around in-between his fingers before he lets it flutter down to the sea of gravel beneath us.

“Like I said, shit really got bad when I had to live with my uncle. It was literally right after my mom died. I swear, I blinked and it was like my whole life changed just like that.”

He goes quiet. I wait for him to continue, not wanting to push him too far or anything, and after a while he finally does.

“I took off one night,” he says, his voice having a strange tone to it. “I couldn’t deal with him so I just ran off. I usually do. Take off, I mean. It’s a hell of a lot easier than sticking around to see what kind of shit he wants to pull. I just kept going, you know? I didn’t have a destination in mind. I don’t know how I ended up out here, but I broke the lock and snuck in. I didn’t even realize it was a railroad until I saw the train car. I got in it and I just thought that it was something my mom would’ve liked. She had this thing about unknown places. She liked going where no one else wanted to.”

“So you kept coming back?” I ask curiously. “’Cause you thought of your mom?”

He shakes his head.

“Nah. It freaked me out at first, you know? I just kept thinking, ‘ _Shit,_ man. My mom would’ve fucking loved this.’”

“What changed?”

“It became kind of comforting,” Levi replies softly. “It was an escape. I wasn’t hurting anyone else. I wasn’t hurting myself. It was about as safe as a coping mechanism as I could get.”

I snort unabashedly at that, prompting him to give me a confused looked.

“I thought you said coping mechanisms were bullshit.”

“I was being an ass,” Levi replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I was out of line with that. Seriously.”

I swallow roughly and curl my legs underneath me.

“Thank you for showing me this, Levi.”

He stares at me for a few moments before he clears his throat quietly.

“There’s an important place for every important person, right?” he says. I whistle softly.

“Damn. You spit lines out like that out all the time?”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “What? Get outta here.”

“Christ, man. How the fuck are you still single?”

He shrugs.

“You know, waiting for the special person and all that cliché shit. Bet you think it’s bullshit.”

“Nah,” I say honestly. “I think it’s cool. You see all these people rushing to date whoever they can get their grubby paws on? That shit never works out. All it does is cause unnecessary pain."

Levi hums quietly. “Speaking from experience?”

“Something like that,” I reply vaguely. “So? You find your _special person_ or something?”

He chuckles softly before he lays back against the ground, his arms cradled behind his head. He looks up at me with this soft expression that leaves my head a jumbled mess, but it’s not like I’m willing to admit that. You know, ‘cause I wanna play it cool or whatever.

“I dunno, Eren. You tell me.”

I shrug. “That’s all you. You gotta decide that for yourself.”

“Well,” he starts slowly. My heart pounds in my ears liked a goddamn drum. “I don’t know, man. I really think I have.”

I look at him, trying to detect any sign that he’s fucking with me, but he looks at honest as ever. I force out a strangled-sounding scoff and shake my head, staring up at the sky. The clouds are still a bit grey, but the areas around the sun are stained a mix of pale orange, pink, and a light lavender sort of color. I chew the inside of my cheek roughly.

“Jesus Christ,” I manage to get out. I let myself fall back so that I’m lying down next to him. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Levi snickers quietly. “Good.”

I can’t help but to lean over and press our lips together.

* * *

9:55 am, right after English.

“Where are you going next?” Levi asks.

“Civics. You?”

“Forensics,” he replies. He rubs the back of his neck. “Um…your class is on the way to mine, right?”

I begin to snicker, ignoring the irritated glare he shoots my way.

“Holy shit. Are we about to become one of those disgusting, PDA-obsessed couples? You know, the ones who walk each other to class and kiss like they didn't just see each other the period before?"

“Okay, first of all, hell _fuckin’_ no. And second, who the hell would want to give _you_ PDA?”

“Damn, someone’s feeling a little spicy this morning.”

“Um, _ouch_.”

“Says the one who literally just attacked me,” I reply, smirking at him, and Levi smiles crookedly back at me.

Before I can say anything else, my eyes land on a familiar figure down the hall. My body physically locks up as I watch Reiner and Bertolt talking to each other. Bertolt keeps looking at the floor, but Reiner looks strangely desperate.

“I’ll see you in gym, okay?” I say, trying to look as casual as possible when I look at Levi.

“Uh, okay?” he says, seemingly confused, but I don’t stick around long enough for him to ask me anything else.

I’m by Bertolt’s side in seconds. Reiner shuts up instantly as soon as his eyes land on me. The desperate look one of his face molds into something a hell of a lot more acidic, but Bertolt is my main concern right now.

“Yo, I thought we were walking to class today?” I ask, nudging Bertolt playfully with my arms. He looks confused before he nods slowly, and I release a relieved breath when I realize that means he’s playing along.

“Sorry, it just slipped my mind.”

“Wait, what the fuck?” Reiner asks, grabbing onto Bertolt’s arm so that he’s looking at him. “Are you shitting me, Bertolt? You’re friends with fucking _Jaeger_?”

“Fucking _Jaeger_ is right here,” I hiss. “And I suggest you walk away before you regret it. I’m two for two, bro. You wanna see who’ll come out on top for the third time?”

Reiner clenches his jaw.

“I don’t know what your fucking deal is, man, but _I_ suggest you get the hell out of my face.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do, Reiner? We both know I’ll fuck you up no matter what you try. Let’s not go there.” I respond, stepping closer. He’s taller than me, so I’m not really _in_ his face, but it does more than enough to intimidate him. Well, at least I hope it does. “I’m not fucking scared of you.”

“Eren,” Bertolt says softly, gripping me tightly around the arm. He forcefully pulls me back, which isn’t hard considering how he’s got quite a few pounds and inches on me. “Stop.”

“Maybe you should listen to him, Jaeger,” Reiner pipes up. “’Sides, no one was taking to you—”

“Drop it,” Bertolt says, still holding tight onto my arm. “Just…enough, okay?”

“What are you talking about?” Reiner asks, narrowing his eyes, but Bertolt is already dragging me away. “Hey, Bertolt, what the hell are you—”

Bertolt continues to pull me down the hallway. He completely ignores the bell ringing above our head and unceremoniously shoves me into the boys’ bathroom. He locks the door behind us and turns to face me.

“What were you thinking?” he asks. I rub my aching upper arm and manage a one-shouldered shrug.

“I was thinking that Reiner needed to get the hell away from you.”

“I was handling it just fine, Eren.”

“Right, okay.”

“I’m serious,” Bertolt replies, frowning a bit, and I rest back against one of the sinks.

“Alright, sorry,” I mutter. I wrap my arms around myself and Bertolt sighs quietly.

“Thank you, Eren. I appreciate what you were trying to do. But you know how Reiner gets. You’ve…you’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

I swallow hard and sink my fingers down into my ribs hard enough to hurt. The pressure distracts me from the throbbing headache I feel coming on, though, so I press down until I’m sure I’m gonna bruise my skin.

“I know,” I mutter. I chew my lower lip lightly. “What was he saying to you?”

Bertolt shrugs. “He was talking about football, believe it or not. Kept asking why I quit.”

“As if he doesn’t know,” I bite back. Bertolt gives me a harsh look that instantly shuts me up. “Sorry.”

“In his eyes he didn’t do anything wrong,” Bertolt says. I shake his head.

“Of course he didn’t. That’s what he wants to believe. But that’s not the truth. You get that, right?”

Bertolt falls silent.

“I never thanked you, right?” he says slowly. “For taking me to Mina, I mean.”

“You didn’t have to. I did it because I knew it was what you needed. There’s no need to thank me.”

He shrugs and leans back against the door.

“I know. I just felt kinda shitty about it,” he pauses, and I find myself looking at him curiously. “I didn’t mean to get you involved with all this. I should’ve handled it on my own.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say honestly. “God knows what would’ve happened if you kept it to yourself. Remember what I told you? You gotta make yourself happy, Bertolt. You can’t do that if you never get help, you know?”

Bertolt looks at me silently before he smile slightly.

“Thanks.”

“What are friends for?” I ask, smiling back.

“Sorry. For your arm, I mean.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s nothing. I’ve gone through worse. Remember your birthday?”

“Oh, Jesus. How could I forget?” Bertolt says with a snort.

I shrug and push myself off the sink.

“C’mon. We should probably get to class. I already skipped yesterday.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Bertolt says, looking panicked. “I wasn’t even thinking.”

“No worries. Civics fucking sucks anyway. You’re doing me a favor.”

Bertolt rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. Let’s just go.”

I laugh loudly and follow him out of the bathroom.

* * *

6:23 pm, my house.

“So where exactly are you going?” I ask, picking up one of the picture frames that line the mantle over our fireplace. We’ve never used it. It’s more of an aesthetic thing than anything. I never understood the appeal, but Mikasa apparently thought it was gorgeous as hell. Everything was always fucking beautiful to her.

“What are you, my dad?” Jean asks, ruffling my hair with his hand roughly. “I’m just going out.”

“Going out?” I echo, setting the picture down.

Seven years ago. I was ten and Mikasa had just turned twenty three. The picture is from her birthday party. She hadn’t wanted one, but Mom had been so excited that she threw one without really thinking about it. I don’t remember much of it, other than that my Aunt Natalie had shown up and started shit. According to the legend, she had one too many glasses of some cheap wine someone had smuggled in, even though my mother put her foot down that it was supposed to be a strictly-alcohol free party. That’s what Mikasa told me, anyway.

“Why are you saying it like that?” Jean asks, narrowing his eyes. I shrug and step back from the fireplace to throw myself down on the couch.

“ _Because_ ,” I say, dragging the word out, “you never ‘go out.’ You haven’t gone out ever since you moved in.”

“I’ve gone out.”

“Groceries don’t count. I really thought you didn’t have any friends.”

“Okay, wow. I have friends.”

“Sounds kinda like bull but okay.”

Jean rolls his eyes and adjusts his tie.

“You know, you look a little overdressed. What’d you do, spray half a bottle of cologne on?”

“Are you nearly finished?” he asks, sounding a bit tired, and I shrug.

“Dunno. You tell me,” I say, sitting up. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re going on a date.”

Jean gets suspiciously quiet. The teasing grin on my face slips away. I grip onto my knees hard enough to hurt.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, and Jean turns towards me.

“Eren? Eren, listen to me.”

“You’re going on a date?”

“It’s not like that!”

“Of course it is! Do I look stupid?!”

“No!” Jean runs a hand through his hair and kneels down in front of me. “Hey. Look at me.”

I stare at the ground stubbornly. He sighs softly and grips my chin to force me to make eye contact with him. I jerk violently out of his hold and scramble off of the couch, not even caring as I feel my foot connect solidly with his chest as I attempt to get as far away as possible from him.

“Eren? Can we talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?” I say, my voice emotionless. “Have fun on your fucking date, Jean.”

“Jesus Christ, Eren! Will you just listen to me?” he asks, grabbing me around the wrist. I shake my head and push him as hard as I can.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I hiss.

I don’t bother to grab my jacket as I storm out of the house. The cold air instantly attacks every inch of bare skin it can reach, but I’m too angry to really notice how I’m going to be seconds away from freezing real fucking fast. The door doesn’t open again once I close it, and I wonder if that sinking feeling in my gut is because I thought Jean would come after me.

* * *

7:01 pm, Armin’s house.

“Why are you here, Eren?” he asks tiredly, resting against the doorframe.

The honest to God truth is that I don't know. Levi and Bertolt are both going through a shitty time right now. It's not like I want to push my own problems onto them. Nick and Jean pretty much hate each other, so it's not like Nick will give me some amazing advice that will help me put the fragmented pieces of my relationship with Jean back together.

The thing with Armin is that he's pretty much the only person who really knows Jean. The last person who really knew Jean was Mikasa, and it's not like I can ask her why I'm feeling all kinds of fucked up just because there's a possibility he's finally moving on and attempting the healing process. A process that I should really start but just don't have the fucking guts to, by the way.

“Jean,” I manage to get out. It feels extremely childish to blame my poor brother-in-law for my own emotional instability, but I’ve never been good at shouldering the responsibility for anything in my life. I never had to be held accountable for anything because I made sure no one would ever be able to make me accountable.

Armin’s eyes widen. “Is he okay?”

I bark out a bitter laugh.

“Sure. He’s fine.”

Armin purses his lips before he yanks the door open.

“Get inside. Jesus Christ, why aren’t you wearing a coat?”

I ignore him and kick off my shoes. Armin leads me into the kitchen and starts making us tea. I stare at the colorful drawings pinned onto the fridge, no doubt the work of his children.

“How’s Annie?” I ask, distracted, and Armin pauses in the middle of putting the water to boil.

“She’s doing well,” he says. “She had the baby.”

“Boy or girl?” I mutter.

“Boy,” he says, and laughs softly. “Again.”

I laugh despite myself. Armin always wanted a girl, but all three of his children are boys.

“Oh well,” I say, shrugging, and settle back into the kitchen chair. Armin slips into the seat across from me.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” Armin replies. He shakes his head with a laugh. “Whatever happened to the kid who wouldn’t shut up every time he saw me?”

I swallow roughly and stare at the obnoxiously bright yellow placemat beneath my hands.

“He grew up,” I reply dully. The smile on Armin’s face slips off.

“Eren?”

“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice cracks and my eyes feel like they’re on fucking fire.

“What happened?” he asks quietly. I shrug and play with the edge of the placemat, shaking my head.

“Nothing. I’m just being an ass. What’s new?”

Armin opens his mouth to reply, but the kettle begins to shrilly whine from the stove. He curses and gets up to grab it. I watch him pour the boiling water into the mugs already adorned with some kind of herbal tea. He’s always been a huge tea drinker. It’s a habit Mikasa eventually picked up. When she’d get stuck on a painting, I’d go down to the basement and see her sitting there with empty teacups surrounding her. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised about it back then. They were friends for basically their whole lives.

Armin slides the mug across the table to me.

“Thanks,” I mumble, but I make no move to touch it. He settles back into his seat and blows carefully across the top of his cup before taking a slow sip.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happening.”

“Who says I need help?”

“Well, why else would you be here?”

I grind my teeth together hard enough to make my entire jaw ache dully. Armin watches me silently. I know he’s tearing me apart. He and Mikasa were good at that. Picking someone apart and putting them back together, I mean. They always fucking knew how to read people. Used to drive Jean crazy. And me? Even more so.

“Jean…” I trail off. Saying the words will make me realize it. How idiotic I’m being, I mean. Guilt stabs me like a hot rod straight to the gut. Is this what Jean deals with all the time? All my shitty coping mechanism and mood swings? All my immaturity and reluctance to let go of the past?

“Jean what?” Armin coaxes gently. I swallow roughly and tap the edge of my fingernail against the mug.

“He moved on,” I say, my voice horrifically quiet and vulnerable, and my stomach actually fucking _lurches_ as I say the words. “Moved on from Mikasa, I mean.”

“Oh, Eren,” Armin says, his voice disgustingly sympathetic, and my lower lip warbles slightly.

I bite into it hard enough to draw blood and look away from him. I can’t look at him. I know looking at him will cause the floodgates to open, and Lord knows that’s the last damn thing I need.

“He’s allowed to do whatever he wants now, right?” I mumble. “It’s not like he’s gotta stay alone for the rest of his life. It’s…it’s not like Mikasa’s still alive.”

“Eren.”

I look up reluctantly.

“It’s okay, you know. To be hurt, I mean. You’re entitled to that.”

“It’s selfish.”

“You’re in pain. Pain is selfish.”

“Pain is selfish,” I repeat to myself. I run my fingers raggedly through my hair. “I just…I never thought it would hurt this bad.”

Armin takes a slow breath and sets his tea down carefully.

“It’s okay. Whatever you’re feeling is valid. You know that, right?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

Armin purses his lips slightly.

“What’s making you so upset about it, Eren?”

I sink down in my chair.

“My parents got rid of every trace of her as soon as they got the chance,” I whisper. My stomach’s churning again, but I ignore it in favor of trying to keep my voice as level as absolutely possible. “I’m afraid he’ll do the same.”

“Jean isn’t your mom or your dad,” Armin says instantly. “I’m not saying your parents are horrible people or anything, but they checked out of reality once Mikasa was gone.”

“Trust me,” I mutter darkly. “I know.”

“Do you remember what Jean said? The night we got the call?”

I swallow hard.

“Kind of,” I say honestly. “I don’t remember much of that night.”

It’s not a lie. The therapist I had seen back then, Dr. Trook, called them repressed memories. He said that sometimes the body hides stuff from us until we’re ready to deal with it. When I told him I couldn’t really remember a lot of the night my sister died, he said that was why. He said my mind was trying to protect me. I always thought it sounded a lot like bullshit, but a part of me always wondered how much of what he was saying was true. Hell, he was the one with the fancy degree and everything, right?

“He said his only job was to protect Mikasa,” Armin says, and something about the words seems vaguely familiar. “He said he failed at that.”

“He didn’t—”

“Did he ever tell you what he said to me?” Armin asks. I shake my head.

“We…we, uh, never really talked about that night.”

Armin nods.

“He told me his job was to protect you now. Not because of Mikasa, though. He said he had to do it because your parents sure as hell gave up on that responsibility as soon as the doctor told them their daughter was dead. Why do you think he cares so much about you doing all this reckless stuff? Do you _really_ think it’s because he’s trying to ruin your life or God knows what other crazy idea you've come up with?”

I swallow thickly. That’s the kind of annoying thing about Armin. He’s always right. Even when he’s not, he has a way of making you believe that whatever he’s saying is about as correct as it gets. I never understood how he was able to do it, but it’s not like I’m about to try and figure it out now. Especially when I know he’s right about every single fucking thing he’s saying to me now.

“What do you want me to say, Armin?” I ask, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. “Thanks for enlightening me? Thanks for making me feel like a fucking dick? _What_?!”

“No,” Armin says. “I want you to realize that the whole world isn’t out to get you. I know that’s what it feels like half the time, but I swear it’s not true.”

He leans forward, the seat creaking slightly as he does, and I stare at the steam escaping from my tea so that I don’t have to look at his face.

“Jean loves you. Don’t forget that. He loves Mikasa, too. That’ll never change.”

I nod without really processing his words.

“Thanks, Armin,” I finally manage to say. He nods slowly.

“You’re welcome, Eren.”

I push myself back from the table.

“Sorry for intruding. I should head home now.”

Armin purses his lips again.

“Hey, Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep in touch,” he says sincerely. “Even if it’s just a call or something. I want to know how you’re doing.”

I look at him for a while. He’s no different from the Armin I remember growing up, but there’s something undeniably, distinctively off from the Armin in the present when I compare him to the Armin from the past. I don’t know whether or not it has to do with my dead sister, but I’d rather not think about it.

“I will,” I say, and as I walk away I wonder if I really mean it.


	22. Twenty-Two: Levi

Kenny’s car is in the driveway.

My body physically freezes up once I realize that. I stop, right there in the middle of the street, and wonder if he can see me from here. Probably not, since I’m mostly hidden behind the thick patch of evergreen trees near the edge of our property, but I don’t let the thought comfort me.

I can’t possibly imagine why he’s home now. Even though he had texted me while I was at Eren’s house, he hadn’t been home when I finally gathered the courage to come back. In fact, it’s been a few days and I haven’t seen him since then. So it’s a huge shock to see his car sitting behind mine in the driveway.

I try to think about it rationally. Maybe he lost his job. Maybe he took a half-day. Maybe he just stayed home to drink away the last bottle of Jack. It wouldn’t be the first time. I don’t know how he manages to do it, but I guess his boss must not care. Kenny works in a factory, anyway, so it’s not like there aren’t a hundred other people to replace him.

I turn around on my heel and walk away from the house before I can think about it. My heartbeat roars in my ears, and I can feel myself break out into a cold sweat. I know I should be reasonable about this, that I should talk to Kenny instead of running away like a coward, but I never claimed to be mature.

I don’t realize where I’m going until I see the swing sets and the slides. Exhaling sharply, I walk over to one of the swings and brush the snow off. I sit down heavily, listening to the creak of the swing set as it adjusts to my weight, and grip the chains hard enough to hurt.

My heart’s still pounding. Not as intensely as before, but enough for me to wonder if it’s possible for me to have a heart attack. That’d be a way to go. You know, dying in a Barney and Friends inspired playground. I’m sure the parents would _love_ that. Totally wouldn’t scar their children or anything, seeing some dead kid slumped over in their precious swing set.

I lick my dry lips and hold onto the chains tighter. The cold air viciously attacks any bit of exposed skin I have. My ears, fingers, and nose are numb to the point I wonder if they’re even there. There had been a wind chill advisory this morning, but I ignored it. The cold never really bothered me much, but I guess frostbite is an issue I should be worried about.

I let myself sway slightly in the swing. I feel miserable. It’s a feeling I usually have. I try my best to ignore it, but it’s kind of like that pimple I keep getting on my nose. Just when I think it’s gone, it flares up again. Most of the time, it’s worse than before.

I don’t like thinking about how I got into this situation. Not today, specifically, but living with Kenny. It’s not like it’s something I could easily forget, but I never really imagined it would happen. Mom was always strong. I thought she’d get through anything. I grew up admiring her, back before I knew how exactly she paid the bills.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always respected her. It was just kinda weird to find out that my mother had slept with nameless men just so that we’d be able to eat dinner. And even then, she didn’t really make that much. Rich men didn’t go to her. The only ones who went for my mom were the bastards: the men cheating on their wives, the men too freaking weird for any decent person to wanna fuck them, the men who just wanted to shirk whatever kind of responsibility they were trying to avoid. Mom never got a nice guy.

Mom told me Michael was a nice guy, though. I wonder if she’ll say that now if she knew about Sammy and Olivia.

I wonder about a lot of things. Most of them are the kind of “what if’s” that keep me up at night. What if Mom never died? What if I never got sent to live with Kenny? What if Michael never left? What if, what if, _what if_?

I don’t like thinking about those kinds of questions either, but my mind likes supplying them every so often just to remind me how miserable I am. It’s fucked up, in a way, but I guess life is just fucked up like that.

I’m not saying life sucks, though. It does, at certain points, but it’s not like I’ve got this dark cloud over my head that never goes away. People always say things get better, and I guess that’s true. I’m still waiting for that moment, for the moment where I realize all of these shitty things are probably some kind of Heaven sent obstacles intended to build character and make me a better person. That’s what Mom said. That God makes life shitty so that people are forced to learn from it, I mean.

It always sounded like bullshit. She liked making excuses for why we were living like we were. The men weren’t being too rough on her; they were just caught up in the moment. Michael wasn’t a bad person; he was just overwhelmed. She wasn’t miserable; she was just not the happiest she could be. I always knew she was trying to make it seem like I was growing up surrounded by sunshine and rainbows and God knows what else, but I always fucking knew.

Something wet touches my hand, and when I look up I realize it’s snowing. Mom hated the snow. She never really said why, but I knew. Sometimes we couldn’t afford to pay the electricity bill. They’d shut off our power, and we’d be stuck without heat for a while until Mom could manage to get some money. The cold always had a nice way of reminding her that things weren’t nearly as beautiful as she tried to make them seem.

Things probably got bad around the time I was starting high school. She tried to get more money then. Said she was saving up for college, said I would need it more than her, and I was too chicken shit to tell her I wasn’t even thinking of college. It was freshman year and I didn’t think I had to care yet.

The way she stopped working was kinda weird, to be honest. She didn’t seem sick or anything like that. She seemed about as well as someone in our situation could be. It was like she lost all of her clients instantly. She tried to get another job, a _real_ job as she put it, but she didn’t even have a high school diploma. No one wanted to hire her.

I don’t know how Kenny ended up coming into our lives. It was probably towards the end of junior year. Mom started bringing him around the house, started emphasizing that he was my uncle, my _blood_ , and that he’d take good care of me if something were to happen. I didn’t get it at first, not until she was six feet underground and everything felt really fucking numb.

The memory of it all causes me to stiffen up almost instantly. I feel sick to my stomach, and for a few moments I think I might actually puke. But the feeling passes as quickly as it had come, and I find myself letting go of the swing chains.

My hands are red, covered in the indents left behind by the chain, and I curl my fingers experimentally. They move stiffly, sluggishly, and I realize I should get inside before I actually get sick.

I adjust the straps of my backpack and sigh heavily. My breath appears as a grey cloud in front of me before it dissipates, and I sniffle lightly. My boots crunch on ice and snow as I trek back to the house, my entire body feeling heavy. It’s like I’m dragging a bunch of invisible bricks with each step, and I wonder what will happen if I just decide to lay down right where I stand and close my eyes.

I keep moving, though, because maybe there’s a possibility Kenny’s left. Maybe his co-workers managed to convince him to go out with him. They’ve done that before. There have been times where he’s gone out all night and I wouldn’t have to worry about him until he stumbled into the house at six in the morning the next day.

I get past the evergreen trees and let my breath leave my lungs in a slow exhale. His car’s still sitting there innocently behind mine in the driveway. I don’t think about running away this time though. I’ve avoided this moment long enough, haven’t I?

I make my way up the steps and pause before the door. I can’t hear anything but the whistling of the wind in my ears. It sounds like a warning, like someone out there is trying to tell me not to go inside. Maybe it’s not anything like that at all. Maybe I’m being just like Mom right now, forcing myself to find something spectacular in something that isn’t.

I shake the thought off and grip the doorknob hard. It gives in easily, the door opening silently once I push it. I dust my snow-covered boots off on the doormat and line them up neatly against the wall next to Kenny’s. My sock-covered feet barely make any noise as I walk into the living room.

He’s sitting in the old armchair in the living room. He sits there so much sometimes that there’s a big depression right in the middle of the seat from his weight. He used to be rail skinny, back when I saw him for the first time, but he gained a lot of weight after Mom died. I guess it’s all the beer and Chinese take-out.

His eyes are closed, but experience tells me he’s not sleeping. He’s done this before, after all. Pretended to sleep before he just sprung on me like a lion to its prey, I mean. I’ve come to expect it. Those days are the worst because those are the days he’s the angriest. I’m still not exactly sure what triggers him, but it’s not like I want to find out.

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes slowly and stares at the television. It’s muted, but from where I can stand I can see the evening news playing. I swallow hard. Had I really spent _that_ long outside?

“You’re home late.”

“Study group,” I lie. It’s almost frightening how little thought I put into it. “You, uh, came home.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You miss me?”

“Nah,” I say, gripping hard onto my backpack straps. “Just glad you’re not piss-drunk and puking all over yourself.”

He leans back in his seat, one arm propped up onto the arm rest, and gives me a level look. I feel myself wither under his gaze. My shoulders unintentionally slump down, and my book bag suddenly feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.

I rock back and forth awkwardly on my heels. I feel sweaty all over. My stomach is wound tight thanks to my nerves. I feel anxious, and no amount of deep breathing can help that.

“I had something to take care of.”

“You just left,” I mumble, my voice horrifically thin, almost watery, and it shocks me down to my core. I didn’t think him leaving would affect me so much. Hell, if anything, I thought I’d be jumping for joy. Instead, I felt this intense, crippling dread that somehow manages to take over each and every one of my sensations.

Kenny glances up at me impassively. “I’ll leave a note next time, then.”

I grind my teeth together hard enough to hurt. My jaw aches dully with the force of it, but I keep doing it. Something’s building inside of me, something that I can’t stop, but I’m trying my best to contain it.

“What, kid? You got something to say?”

“You’re gonna leave, right?”

I don’t know why I’m asking him. Isn’t that what I want? To get away from him, I mean. Didn’t I tell Eren I would be out of here by the time I turn eighteen? So why should Kenny leaving bother me?

“What?” he asks, looking confused, and I feel like a fucking idiot.

“Nothing, I just…it’s nothing. Forget it.”

I turn to leave, intent on just pretending this whole conversation never happened, but he calls me back. I linger in the doorway, my hands curled into tight fists. My nails leave indentations in my palm that look like little crescent moons, and I stare at them so I don’t have to look Kenny in the eye.

“What are you going on about?” he asks. He pushes himself up off the couch and walks over towards me.

The floorboards creak menacingly under his feet. My heart pounds loudly in my ears, and I wonder just how many times I plan on working myself up into a panic today. He stops a decent way in front of me, far enough that I could probably make a run for it if he decides to get violent. Not that I would, though, but it’s nice to think I have that option. Even if I don’t exactly plan on utilizing it.

“Nothing,” I say again, and I force myself to look at him. He looks a hell of a lot like Mom. I’m not sure why it surprises me, considering how they’re siblings and all, but it does.

He look at me for a few moments before he scoffs and walks back to his seat. He sits down and unmutes the television. I flinch at the sudden flood of sounds into the tiny living room.

“Sorry,” I manage to get out, and I get the hell out of there before I can anything else.

My footsteps sound obnoxiously loud as I go upstairs. I almost trip over my own two feet as I reach the last step. Stumbling, I catch myself onto the wall and press my forehead into it. I force myself to take deep breaths, but air seems to be extremely difficult to keep inside my lungs.

I sink down to the ground, the wall cold and solid behind my back, and let the nightly news drown out my thoughts.

* * *

“Yo, Ackerman!”

Reiner clamps down on my shoulder. I look up at him and force a grin onto my face.

“Yo,” I say, clasping onto the hand he holds out to me. “What’s up?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Reiner asks, leaning one shoulder against the locker next to mine. “Jeez, man. You’ve been like a fucking ghost lately or something. You forget about us just ‘cause you’re not ordering us around?”

“I don’t order you around,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Not without good reason, at least.”

“You’re dodging.”

“I’m not,” I say, feeling a little defensive. Well, a _lot_ defensive. It’s like there’s a chink in my armor, like the façade I’ve so carefully crafted is cracking in places that I can’t see. I’m becoming too vulnerable, I realize. I’m letting too much of myself show.

My mind instantly supplies me with an image of Eren. I swallow thickly and pause in the middle of switching my English textbook for my forensics one. He’s the one who’s made me like this, right? He’s the one who’s makes me _want_ to be vulnerable. And, to my credit, I have been. It had been incredibly difficult to speak to him, let alone show him pieces of me that I haven’t shown anyone else, but I had done it. It’s progress, I’m sure, but I’m not exactly sure what I’m progressing towards.

“Alright, whatever,” Reiner says with a shrug. I chew the inside of my cheek hard. “We’re hanging out after school. You know, all the guys.”

“Right,” I say absently. “I’ll-”

“Come?” he asks, almost hopefully. “I mean, you ditched us after the game last time. Everyone was wonderin’ where the hell you went.”

Ah, right. Eren and I had hung out then, right? It had been nice, just being with someone who didn’t have any expectations, who didn’t want me to act a certain way, and I find myself wondering how I’m supposed to turn back into _that_ guy. I’ve been just Levi for God knows how long. I’m just Levi to Eren. There’s nothing else attached to it, nothing else I feel like I have to be. Am I ready to be _Levi Ackerman_ again? Am I ready to fall back into being the captain of the football team, and everything that that entails, after so long of just being _me_?

“I just had some stuff to do,” I say quickly, forcing myself to just stop thinking, and Reiner raises an eyebrow. “Seriously, man.”

“Right, okay, well you’re coming tonight. No buts, okay? We’re seniors, man. Who knows where we’ll be in a year.”

I narrow my eyes.

“You’re thinking about the future?” I ask, unable to stop myself from scoffing. “Thought you loved living in the moment.”

He shrugs. “Things change, don’t they?”

“Sure,” I say, still a little confused, but I brush it off. It’s not like I’m that close to Reiner. I don’t have to try and understand him. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

Reiner nods and pushes himself off of the locker. “We’re meeting out in the parking lot and then driving over to Franz’s place.”

“Cool,” I say, but for some reason there’s an uneasy feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been around these guys for four years. There’s no reason for me to feel so uncomfortable.

I go through the rest of the day mechanically. If Eren picks up on my shitty mood, he doesn’t mention it. I tell him I’ll call him later, and he nods slowly like he doesn’t really believe me. He squeezes my hand before he takes off, and I wonder if I should go with him.

I don’t, though. My feet bring me to the parking lot until I can spot Reiner’s head amongst the crowd of students. He, Franz, Thomas, and Marco are all around Franz’s car. I approach them reluctantly, almost dragging my feet as I do, but they all grin when they see me.

“Well would you look at that,” Franz teases with a smirk. “Levi fucking Ackerman, _in the flesh_.”

“Fuck off,” I say, shoving him away when he tries to throw an arm around my shoulders, and Thomas laughs ridiculously loud from beside me. “So we going or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” Reiner says, pushing himself off the car. “I’m riding with Franz and Thomas. You cool with taking Marco?”

I nod. “Sure.”

Marco smiles again and I lead him away from the others to my car. We get in quietly and I turn on the radio just so I don’t feel like I have to fill the silence.

“Reiner forced you, huh?”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, pulling out of the parking spot. Marco shrugs.

“Dunno. You’ve seemed kinda out of it all day. And you didn’t seem too enthusiastic back there.”

“Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Dunno. Forget it. Sorry.”

Marco raises an eyebrow but goes quiet.

 The rest of the drive goes by in silence. Before I know it, we’re at Franz’s house. Sure enough, there a few more cars other than Reiner’s are in the driveway. Judging by how I can hear the dull sound of music emanating from inside, this is more than just the guys hanging out.

“Guess we have more company,” Marco says.

I shrug and chose not to respond. We get out of the car and walk up to the door. It’s already unlocked, so we go inside and wipe our wet shoes off. I spot Thomas speaking to some girl, but Reiner and Franz are nowhere in sight.

A lot of the kids are from other schools. I recognize a few as being from teams we’ve played against, but they’re strangers for the most part. I shift awkwardly and stay rooted in my spot while Marco begins moving forward. He look back at me.

“You coming?”

“In a minute,” I manage to say.

He shrugs and disappears into the kitchen. I lean back against the wall and take a deep breath. What the fuck am I even doing here? I hate parties. I’ve only ever gone because my friends insisted I did, but I’ve never gotten any particularly pleasurable out of them. All they do is cause trouble.

But I don’t feel like standing up against the wall all night, so I force myself to step in. A few of the guys, the one’s we’ve played against, greet me.

“Yo, you’re Levi, right?” One asks. Schultz or something like that. I remember seeing it on his jersey.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say. “You’re Schultz, right?”

“Gunther’s my first name,” he says. “I’m from Krolva. You’re Shiganshina, right? Man, you really kicked our asses that day.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say. “We’ve never had to work that hard before. Not even with Trost.”

Gunther smiles proudly. “Aren’t they your biggest rivals?”

I shrug, smirking. “Something like that.”

Gunther laughs.

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Hey, maybe we should hang out or something. Do something off the field for once, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say. I’m not sure if I really mean it. “See you.”

“See you!”

I push my way past the people crowded in the doorway to the kitchen. I grab a water bottle from the fridge and watch as people get trashed right in front of me. There’s talk of weed down in the basement, and a couple kids go and check it out for themselves. I can hear someone laughing downstairs that sounds exactly like Reiner.

I stand up against the counter and take slow sip of my water. The music is slowly but surely giving me a headache, and I wonder if I can just get up and leave. Before I can do just that, Marco presses himself in next to me.

“Hey,” he says, sounding a little out of breath, and I decide I don’t want to know why. “You see Franz?”

“Not since we left school,” I mutter. Marco shrugs and downs his shot. I swallow hard and look away.

“You want a beer?”

“Got a water,” I say, shaking the bottle for emphasis. “I’m good.”

Marco raises an eyebrow and says nothing. It occurs to me suddenly that I’m sick of this. Not just the partying, though, but all the people that go along with it. It’s not my scene, anyway. Why should I bother torturing myself like this?

“Oh, hey Reiner!”

I flinch as Marco yells right by my ear. Reiner grins and stands on the other side of me. I feel trapped, and the ridiculous idea that they’re doing this on purpose plants itself into my head.

“You know, I’m glad you came,” Reiner throws his arm around me. “You’ve been blowing us off. What the hell have you been doing?”

“He’s got other friends,” Marco says slowly, smirking, and my heart instantly sinks. “He and Eren are tight, now.”

I wonder how the hell he knows that, but then I remember when I had to drag Eren’s drunk ass home. Marco had called me and told me that Eren said we were friends. He figured I would be the only person Eren would listen to. And while he wasn’t wrong, I thought he would’ve forgotten about it by now.

“Eren,” Reiner echoes, suddenly stiff, and I’m more than fucking aware that he’s instantly pissed. “Like, Jaeger?”

“So what?” I ask, trying to diffuse the situation, but it only seems to piss him off more.

“What do you mean? He’s a fucking asshole!”

"Don't fucking talk about him like that," I growl. "What the hell do you even know about him?"

"Why do you even care? I don't need to know him to know that he's nothing but a fucking loser!"

"Fuck you, Reiner," I snarl. "You think I'm gonna hate him just 'cause you do? Gimme a break."

“It’s not about that,” Reiner hisses. “It’s about loyalty!”

“Loyalty?!” I snort, and I continue on before I can stop myself. “Where the fuck was your so-called loyalty when Bertolt needed you?”

I barely have time to react before Reiner swings at me. Marco manages to grab me by the arm and yank me away before Reiner’s fist can connect with my face. I stare at him in shock, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and stumble backwards a bit. I had dropped my water bottle onto the ground and now the entire floor is wet.

“Jesus Christ,” Marco swears behind me. I swallow hard and try to stop myself from shaking.

“What the fuck?”

“Just shut up, okay?” Reiner says, still clearly pissed, and slams his beer down. “Don’t…don’t fucking bring him up.”

“Why?” I snarl. “’Cause I’m right?”

“Enough,” Marco say, squeezing down on my arm. “Let it go, Levi.”

I say nothing and let Marco lead me back to the front of the house. We stand near the door, and I watch as he paces back and forth in front of me.

“You know Bertolt's a touchy subject.”

“So?” I scoff, crossing my arms. “He fucked up. How is that my problem?”

“It’s not,” Marco says carefully. “I just…I dunno, I don’t think you should’ve gone there. He feels the worst out of all of us.”

“He’s got a shitty way of showing that,” I mutter. Marco sighs and leans back against the wall.

“Levi.”

“You know what?” I say, standing up straight. “Fuck this. Fuck him. I don’t give a shit about any of this anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m fucking sick of this,” I hiss. “I’m sick of the fucking parties, I’m sick of Reiner acting like a fucking ass, and most of all, I’m sick of fucking going along with it.”

"I know but-"

"Eren's my friend. You said it yourself, right? I'm not gonna stand there and listen to him talk about him like that. It's not fucking right."

"...You sure that's it?" Marco mutters. "Eren's just your friend?"

I swallow thickly.

"That's none of your business."

Marco narrows his eyes.

“Levi-”

I don’t wait for him to finish.

Uncomfortable and incredibly annoyed, I turn around and grab the doorknob. The door slams shut loudly behind me, and I rest my back against it. Running a shaky hand through my hair, I grab my phone out of my pocket and hold it tightly in my hands. My finger hesitates over the home button. In the end, though, I don’t unlock it and just shove it back into my pocket. I wish I could go home, but Marco doesn’t have a ride back. I’m not enough of a dick to leave him stranded here.

I walk off the steps and go around to the back of the house. There are a few guys messing around with the bird bath set up in the backyard, but I ignore them and walk over to the patio. After I clear off the snow from one of the steps, I sit down heavily and cross my arms.

I let myself fall onto my back. My eyes stay trained on the sky. It’s another dark night, the kind of darkness where everything looks pitch black, but there seem to be a million stars in the sky. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Well, not really. I’ve probably seen something like this many, many times before. But today is probably the first day where I feel like actually admiring it. I rest my hands on my stomach and keep staring up at the sky.

Suddenly, I can’t hear the dumbasses in the yard or the loud music from inside anymore. Even the howling wind sounds silent now. All that’s out here is me and the expansive sea of stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's getting really intense and I know I probably won't be able to write for a while. I really wanted to get this chapter out, especially since it was finished and I didn't see the point in just leaving it in my drafts. I hope you all enjoyed!


	23. Twenty-Three: Eren

10:23 pm, my bedroom.    

I’m sitting at my desk doing homework. Well, not really. I’m just giving off the appearance that I am. In reality, I’m staring at the blank sheets in front of me and wondering how long it’ll take for them to just disappear.

Mom had come in earlier and said she and Dad were going out to dinner. They invited me to go with them, but I declined. I hadn’t been in the mood to pretend like we’re all just one big happy family.

There’s a knock on my door and I move to pick up my pencil. I pretend to read over my calculus textbook as the door creaks open.

“I’m not hungry, Mom.”

“It’s me, Eren.”

I stiffen and hold my pencil tight enough to hurt my hand. I pay no attention to the bite of the wooden ridges into my palm as I turn and look at Jean.

“I thought you went out with my parents,” I say, swallowing hard and staring down the ground just so that I’m not forced to look at his face anymore.

“Nah,” Jean says, sighing a bit. “I stayed back.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yeah,” Jean says, leaning his shoulder up against the doorframe. I scoff and turn back around.

“I’m busy. Homework.”

“It’s Friday. You’ve got all weekend.”

“Yeah, well I kinda want to finish it now-”

“Don’t shut me out, Eren.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m _busy_.”

I begin to furiously scribble a bunch of nonsense numbers onto the paper. My hand’s shaking like a fucking leaf and I can feel my throat begin to get all tight. I pay it no mind as I dig the tip of my pencil in hard enough to rip little holes into the paper.

“I’m sorry, Eren.”

“Okay.”

“It was the date, right?” Jean says. I hear him step into my room, but I’m still focused on pretending like I’m not seconds away from falling apart. “You thought I was forgetting about Mikasa or something?”

“Don’t tell me what I thought.”

“Well I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Don’t be a fucking douche.”

“I’m not. I’m just trying to understand you.”

“Understand me,” I echo. “Why the hell would you try and do that?”

“Because I love you and I’m scared.”

“Right,” I reply with a snort, leaning back in my chair. It creaks loudly and I cringe at the sound. “Because I’m seventeen and I’m going to do something I’ll regret.”

“You remembered,” Jean says, sounding a little awed, and I laugh bitterly. “You listened to me?”

“I’m not deaf. I just don’t care.”

“You do, though.”

“You’re just an expert on me, aren’t you?” I snap, whirling around so that I’m facing him.

He’s standing behind me, arms crossed over his chest, but the expression on his face isn’t angry at all. My stomach twists itself into knots tight enough to hurt and I clench my hands into fists.

Jean shakes his head slowly. “I’m not saying that I am. I’m just saying that your little tough guy act isn’t working.”

“Look, if you just came here to lecture me then maybe you should go-”

“It wasn’t a date, you know.”

“I don’t _care_ -”

“I was going out for drinks with Mina. We were just going to hang out. But I didn’t go. I didn’t go because I saw you storm off and I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do something irrational and get hurt.”

He takes a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’ve seen a lot of things through work, Eren. You may think I just run around giving parking tickets and breaking up house parties, but I’ve seen some crazy shit. I’ve seen kids your age get themselves into some deep holes just because they think they’ve got something to prove.”

He walks over to me and squats down so that we’re level. I look away pointedly.

“You remember my partner? Luke?”

I shrug. Of course I remember him. Since there was such a huge age gap between Mikasa and me, I was pretty young when I met him. Mikasa and Jean were twenty-three and I was only ten. Luke had taken me for a drive in his police cruiser and let me wear his hat. Jean had done it for me before, when he’d just started working at the station, but somehow it was cooler when I went with Luke. Maybe it was because Mikasa and Jean had just started dating then and I didn’t exactly approve. Luke was safe in my book just because he wasn’t Jean.

“Sure,” I say, because I don’t want to admit that I liked the guy. “I guess.”

Jean nods and sits down on the ground.

“He had a brother, you know. Same age as you are. Kid was a handful.”

“Was he?” I ask, trying to sound disinterested. I’m not, though. I want to see where he’s going with this.

“Oh yeah,” Jean says, shaking his head. “Luke always had some kind of story. Down at the station, we all kind of looked forward to Mondays because we knew Luke would come in with some crazy shit that would make our week.”

“So what? He got into drugs? Started hooking up?”

“No,” Jean says, pausing. “Got killed.”

“What?” My throat feels tight. “What happened?”

“He got in with the wrong crowd,” Jean says. “I know you’re probably sick of people preaching to you about being careful who your friends are, but it’s true. They were messing around with a gun his friend had. Kid didn’t think it was loaded and pointed it at Luke’s brother. Shot him right in the head. He died instantly.”

Jean looks at me again and this time I don’t try to look away.

“You know why he was friends with those kids? Because he wanted to look cool. He thought he’d be some sort of high-school big shot if he smoked weed and fucked a few girls. I’m telling you right now, Eren. None of that shit fucking matters. It’s not worth killing yourself over because you just-”

“I’m not trying to look cool,” I say, cutting him off.

“Why the sneaking out and partying, then? What are you trying to do?”

“Get by,” I say before I can think about it. It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with Jean in a while, but the truth is that I’m getting sick of always feeling like life’s nothing more than gloom and doom. “I’m just trying to fucking feel right.”

“Feel right,” Jean echoes. He narrows his eyes and takes in a ragged breath. “God, Eren.”

“What?”

“You’re too young,” he says. “You’re too young to be this hurt.”

I shrug. “Life kinda fucked me over.”

“Only ‘cause you let it. You’re _letting_ it fuck you over.”

I narrow my eyes.

“What?”

“The only thing standing between you and happiness is _you_ , Eren,” Jean says. The words make me flinch for a reason I can’t understand. Maybe he’s saying something I should listen to but won’t just because it’s _Jean_ saying it to me. “Why are you holding yourself back so much?”

I look down and stare at the ground. I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t know what I should say, what he wants me to say, or even what _I_ want to say. I don’t know how to do anything but wish that this conversation would just fucking end already, but Jean looks awfully comfortable with staying here until I realize my mistakes.

“I’m not.”

“Lying to yourself isn’t going to change anything,” Jean says. His voice is getting firmer, louder, more intense, and I wonder where the fuck all of this is coming from. “You can live in denial all you want, but the fact of the matter is this: life sucks because you’re _making_ it suck.”

“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m getting defensive, but I don’t give a fuck if Jean realizes that or not. “So I’m my own worst enemy. How do you suppose I make myself happy?”

Jean hesitates for a moment before he sighs.

“Grow up.”

“Grow up?”

“Yeah, grow up,” Jean’s voice goes tense and I grind my teeth hard enough to make my jaw hurt. “Grow the _fuck_ up, Eren!”

I flinch, not expecting him to yell, and suddenly I think of when he’d come and picked me up back when I ran into Levi on the street. I wanted him to yell at me back then, hadn’t I? I wanted him to tell me I was being childish. I wanted him to tell me to stop being so fucking miserable all the time. I wanted him to tell me that I needed to change or else no one would give a fuck about me anymore.

I wanted him to tell me what I needed to hear. I wanted him to tell me things I already knew but refused to act on. And maybe he had, in a mild sort of way, but I wanted him to push me. I wanted him to jump down my throat and fucking _push_ me until I decided I would change. I wanted him to make me so pissed off that I’d do my best to get him off my back.

I wanted him to make me change. But he couldn’t. No amount of pushing could’ve gotten me to change. He could’ve sat in there and cursed me out, but I would’ve just looked him in the eye and laughed. He could’ve torn his hair out of his head and I wouldn’t have cared. And, to be honest, he has. He’s stressed out over me more than my own parents. When my parents gave up, he didn’t.

And I _hate_ it. I want him to go back to his own life. I want him to stop worrying about me because I’m fine, my sister’s dead but I’m _fine_ , and everything is just fan-fucking-tastic. But it’s not, and I’m not dumb enough to think it is. And if there’s any truth to what Armin had said to me when I went to his house, Jean has no intention of going anywhere.

A sick part of me wants him to leave. I want him to throw in the towel. My parents have. Historia had. Those had been the people I trusted more than anything. My parents were, well, my _parents_. And Historia? She’d always been like a sister. Mikasa and I had been close of course, but the age difference had always been like some kind of impossible barrier between us. Thirteen years is a lot. No matter what, she’d always been ten steps ahead of me. I couldn’t relate to her and she couldn’t relate to me. But Historia?

Man, she always got me.

But my selfishness pushed them away. And while Armin can say pain is selfish all he wants, I know I’m just being a dick to everyone. I know it’s only a matter of time before Jean realizes it…before _Levi_ realizes, and I’m ready for it. I’m ready for the day where they’ll give up on me like everyone else has.

That’s probably why I avoid Mr. Smith too. I can’t stand the idea of someone wanting to help me out of the goodness of their heart. I’m too stuck trying to find the bad shit in life that I don’t give a fuck about the good. But I don’t know how to stop myself. I don’t know how to move on, how to _grow up_ , how to be happy.

And it fucking kills me.

“Eren?” Jean’s voice sounds all mellow now, like he’s trying to patch things over, but I don’t want him to. I want to keep feeling that tightness in my chest. I want to keep feeling that I’m ten seconds away from drowning in an endless sea. I want to keep feeling like I’m about to go somewhere where no one else can follow me.

Because, to be quite honest, the pain keeps me going. The pain reminds me that I’m alive even though my sister isn’t. The pain reminds me I feel like shit while I go around fucking over whoever tries to care about me. The pain reminds me that I’m still fucking human.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper.

I stand up on shaky legs and make for the door. Jean scrambles up from behind me.

“Eren!” he says, grabbing onto my arm. “Don’t go, okay? Don’t run away again. Let’s just talk, okay? Can we do that? Can we just talk for once?”

I shake him off and race out of the house. I don’t even bother tying my shoes before I’m out of the door. The wind bites and nips at every inch of exposed skin, but I keep going. I don’t even care that I’m in nothing but sweats and a tee shirt as I keep running and running and _running_.

There’s nothing but the pounding of my feet against the street and the whistling of the wind against my ears. Everything hurts like a bitch and I can feel my body screaming in protest, but I don’t bother stopping.

Because right now, I feel _something_.

* * *

The sky is filled with thousands of little stars.

It’s not something I usually care about. I lie on my bed and look up at the stars all the time, but it’s not because I like them or whatever. It’s just because staring at the four walls around me makes me feel like I’m being suffocated. There’s nothing suffocating about the sky, though. That’s probably why people are always talking about it. It just goes on and on forever. No one knows where it ends and where it begins, and I guess some people like that. You know, the whole thing about endless possibilities or whatever.

I lean back onto the floor of the train car and rest my hands on my stomach. I can’t even feel the cold anymore. My body’s become numb to it, and I realize that I’ll probably get sick. It doesn’t matter to me, though. Nothing really matters to me anymore.

I don’t think about Jean because it’ll make me feel guilty. I’d rather stay here and pretend that I did nothing wrong. I do it all the time. Lie to myself, I mean. Everyone knows it too. Hell, hadn’t Jean said something about it earlier?

My whole body locks up when I hear the crunch of gravel. The sound gets louder and louder, but I ignore it and keep on staring at the sky. There’s the sound of something scraping against metal and then there’s a warm body next to mine.

“Jean called you,” I say.

“He’s a resourceful guy, huh?”

I snort.

“He’s a cop.”

“Ah, right.”

I turn my head towards him. Levi looks back at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Well aware, thanks.”

He sighs and turns his head to face the sky. I follow his lead and ignore how he yanks his jacket off and throws it onto me. I put it on without a word and lay back down.

“It’s two in the morning.”

“That late, huh?” I mutter to myself. “Sorry. Jean probably woke you up or something.”

“He said you took off.”

“He asked you to come after me, right?”

“No. I volunteered.”

I look over at him quickly.

“Why would you do that?”

“I was worried,” Levi says. I swallow hard.

“Don’t be. This isn’t something new. It’s a coping mechanism. Running away, I mean.”

“Jean doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Yeah, well Jean thinks…” I trail off, unable to finish.

“He’s scared out of his mind. You didn’t hear him when he called me, Eren. He really thought you were gonna get hurt.”

“I’ve never gotten hurt before.”

“That’s not true,” Levi says softly, and I instantly know he’s talking about Nick. Obviously he doesn’t know that it was Nick who bruised me up like that, but it’s not like he has to. He saw the bruises and he knows why I let it happen.

“I already explained that to you,” I say tiredly, tucking my hands underneath my head. “I’m in control of that, you know. It’s not like some guy’s being rough and I just take it like a little bitch.”

He winces at my choice of words, but I could care less about how crass I’m being.

“I _know_ that, damn it,” Levi says, sounding frustrated, and I chew on the inside of my cheek hard.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I just happened to be nearby when Jean called me. Came here on a whim.”

“Did you call Jean?”

“Told him you were safe.”

“Is he coming?”

“I told him not to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you don’t want to see him,” Levi says, pausing to look at me. “I told him to give you some space.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Dunno. I just kinda watched you for a bit before I came over here.”

I whistle softly. “Damn. Creep.”

He shrugs and turns onto his side.

“What happened?”

I stiffen up and refuse to meet his eyes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not trying to pry.”

“I know you’re not,” I say, rubbing my hands together to generate some kind of warmth. “But I kinda owe you an explanation. For waking you up this early. Or late. Depending on how you look at it.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Eren.”

I ignore him and turn onto my side so that I’m facing him. We make eye contact and neither of us says anything for a while.

“I took off. The day after we skipped, I mean.”

“Why?”

“I thought Jean had a date,” I say, and it’s only once the words have left my lips that I realize how fucking childish it sounds. Levi doesn’t comment on it, though, something that I’m immensely grateful for. “So I just ran away.”

“It’s because of your sister, right?” he asks quietly. I nod once, not quite trusting myself to actually say _yes_.

“My parents got rid of all of her shit after she died,” I mutter. “It was really hard on them, I get that, but it always kinda pissed of me off how they wanted to act like she never existed.”

“You thought Jean was trying to forget her.”

“It sounds stupid now, but yeah,” I say, licking my dry lips. “I, uh, went to a friend’s house. Well, not my friend. He and Mikasa were real close.”

“What happened there?”

“He told me Jean was only trying to protect me,” I say, picking at a loose thread on Levi’s jacket. “Said Jean thought it was his responsibility or something. My parents…they’ve kinda checked out. Jean’s always trying to fix me or something but…”

“You don’t want to get fixed?” Levi guesses. I nod again.

“Something like that. Basically I felt guilty as hell about it for a while. But then today Jean wanted to talk about it. Said a bunch of shit. Told me to grow up.”

Levi doesn’t say anything so I keep talking.

“He told me I let life fuck me over and that I’m holding myself back from being happy.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

“Of course he’s fucking right,” I snap. “It’s not like I want to admit it, though.”

I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. I bring my knees up to my chest and rest my cheek against them.

“I like the pain. It gives me something to hold onto it. Without it, I just feel like some kind of zombie. But sometimes it’s too much, and that’s when I start running away and drinking and fucking.”

“Do you remember what I said to you? About painting this perfect picture and it being a lie?”

“Of course,” I drawl. “How could I forget? It was one of your most profound moments.”

Levi snorts and sits up as well, his legs hanging down over the edge of the train car.

“Jean did that. Showed you that your picture sure as hell wasn’t perfect, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “He did, and it fucking sucks.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” I murmur. “What should I do?”

Levi goes quiet for a bit. He stares down at the ground, lightly swinging his legs, and won’t look at me. And then, just when I think he’s not gonna answer me, he does.

“Let yourself be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“No, you’re just a good liar.”

“Well what about you?” I snap.

“We’re not talking about me,” Levi says, narrowing his eyes. “We’re talking about _you_. Stop trying to deflect.”

“I’m not fucking deflecting. I just don’t get why you’re preaching to me when you’re not even happy.”

Levi groans softly and runs his fingers through his hair. He tilts his head back to look up and I stare at him, trying to figure out what he’s going to say next.

“It’s not that easy,” Levi murmurs.

“I know,” I say. “I know it’s not. But I…I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why I won’t try. Maybe I’m scared or something.”

“Your sister won’t be mad if you’re happy,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “I hate to sound cliché, but it’s probably what she’d want for you. Anyone who loves you would want you to live the best life you can.”

“You really believe that?”

Levi shrugs. “Sure. Isn’t that what Jean’s doing for you?”

“What about you, then?” I ask. “Who wants _you_ to be happy?”

Levi doesn’t answer and I figure that’s my answer. I reach out for his hand and he tangles our fingers together hard enough to hurt.

“I’m going to try,” I say, my chest physically aching as I say the words, and Levi squeezes my hand. “To be happy, I mean. I’m really going to try.”

“I’m glad.”

“But you have to try too.”

“Eren…”

“I want you to be happy,” I whisper. “You think no one wants you to be happy, right? Well you’re wrong. I do.”

He furrows his eyebrows together for a few seconds before he exhales slowly.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmurs. I grin at him and he tugs me closer so that we’re breathing the same icy cold air.

“Live the best life you can,” I repeat to him. He snorts quietly.

“Only if you do the same,” he replies.

I nod.

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

I rest my forehead against his and ignore how he curls his fingers into the jacket covering my body.

“Promise.”

* * *

9:29 am, that one fucking house.

I’m rocking back and forth on my heels and rehearsing what I’m going to say. It all sounds like total shit, but before I can get a clear idea the door opens and I’m face to face with Mina yet again.

She smiles genially at me and a part of me wonders how she’s able to. I’ve always been nothing but an asshole to her. If I was her, I would’ve slammed the door shut. But I guess that’s the difference between Mina and I. She’s a good person and I’m really fucking not.

“Good morning, Eren,” she says. “Crazy weather we’re having, huh?”

I look up at the snowflakes falling down endlessly. They cling to my hair and coat and Mina’s porch.

“I think we need to talk,” I say in reply.

Mina doesn’t seem surprised. She lets me step inside and takes my coat from me so that she can hang it in her closet. I linger awkwardly in the doorway before Mina motions for me to come into the house.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m good,” I say.

Mina nods and sets down her own mug of coffee onto the table. I sit down on her couch stiffly and stare down at the ground, chewing harshly on my lip. Mina sits across from me and looks at me.

“What brings you here today, Eren?”

“I wanted to apologize,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “I was an asshole to you the first time we met. And I never even thanked you for talking to Bertolt.”

Mina waves her hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I know Jean kind of blindsided you that day. If anything, I should have apologized for being so forward. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. And it was my pleasure to help Bertolt. You’re a really good friend to him, Eren.”

“Thank you, though,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I swallow hard. “That’s not the only reason I’m here, though.”

Mina looks at me expectantly. “Well, why are you here then?”

“Jean said you still wanted to help me,” I say. “And I was wondering if that offer still stands.”

“Of course it does, Eren,” Mina replies, her expression softening. “But if you don’t mind me asking, what changed?”

I fidget in my seat, uncomfortable, and Mina’s eyes widen a bit.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I-”

“I’m sick,” I whisper. “I’m sick of running away. I’m sick of lying. I’m sick of being scared.”

Mina reaches for her mug.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs?” she asks.

I nod and follow her up to her office. It’s not much different than the setup of her living room except for that there’s a desk with her laptop on it, but something about it makes me feel something. It’s like when I had seen Dr. Trook for the first time. I had been reluctant to go, but I wanted things to change. Of course, that was before things got really bad, but it was there. I had a desire to get better, to stop holding on to things I couldn’t control, and to be happy.

Mina sits in the chair across from mine and crosses her legs. There’s no notebook, no pen, no rapid scribbling. I raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not taking notes?”

She snorts.

“I’m not analyzing you, Eren,” she says. “Just imagine we’re two friends having a conversation.”

I press my back up against the couch.

“Jean doesn’t know I’m here.”

“He doesn’t need to.”

I frown. “I didn’t bring any money. I can’t pay you.”

Mina shakes her head.

“I’m not helping you because it’s my job. I’m helping you because I care about you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right,” Mina says. “I don’t know you, Eren. But Jean is a close friend of mine. He always has been. And I care about whoever he cares about. If he wants to help you, then I want to help you too.”

I swallow hard.

“Do you know how I met Jean?” Mina asks. I shake my head.

“No. He never told me.”

Mina nods.

“I didn’t think he would,” she admits, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “We were in group therapy together. Everyone in the group had lost their spouse.”

My stomach drops and I feel like shit all of a sudden.

“I didn’t know,” I say quickly. “Holy shit, I had no idea.”

“It’s fine,” Mina says, flashing a smile, but there’s something tense about it. “It’s not exactly something someone would want to advertise, I guess. I knew what he was going through. I loved my husband just like Jean loved your sister. We bonded because of that love we had had for our spouses, just like everyone else in the group did. No one in my family understood. My brothers weren’t married and my parents never talked after their divorce. But Jean knew exactly what I meant when I said it was the kind of loss that someone could never get over.”

“I’m sorry,” I say instantly. Mina waves me off again.

“I’m a marriage counselor, actually,” Mina says. “But when we were in therapy, Jean mentioned you. He said you were taking it the hardest. He said you were in therapy, but that your parents were considering pulling you out. He said you were beginning to stop caring. I told him to call me if you ever needed someone to talk to. I waited two years for that call.”

I nod slowly. “My dad thought he was wasting money so he just stopped paying. I started skipping out anyway.”

Mina smiles softly.

“I know it’s hard,” she says. “My husband died five years ago. It took me three years to realize that I needed help. That’s why I didn’t want to push you. I knew that no one could force you to get help. _You_ had to want it.”

I swallow roughly.

“I knew I needed it,” I say. “I just got so used to hurting all the time that I worried I wouldn’t function if I wasn’t in pain.”

Mina shakes her head sadly.

“That’s no way to live, Eren,” she says. “Pain is a natural part of life, yes, but it shouldn’t run your life.”

“I didn’t want to get so fucked up,” I say. “But suddenly all that mattered to me was beer and sex. I live off of it because it gives me a distraction.”

“That’s understandable,” Mina says. “I’m not saying they’re healthy, but they’re coping mechanisms.”

“Coping mechanisms,” I echo with a snort. “I use that as an excuse, you know. Coping, I mean. I do all this crappy shit and chalk it up to nothing but trying to breathe again.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person,” she says. “It just makes you a person. You’re a person who’s hurting and you’re doing all you know how to do. No one can fault you for that.”

I yank at one of the strings of my hoodie.

“I used to have a friend,” I mutter. “Historia. We were real close. She…um, she didn’t like how things were going. I started drinking and whatever before my sister died. At first it wasn’t a coping mechanism. I was just trying to fit in. It was freshman year, you know? I was still figuring all that high school stuff out. She didn’t exactly agree with my choices.”

“What happened?” Mina asks, and I release a heavy breath. I’ve never told anyone. Not in detail, at least.

“It was really bad,” I say, tugging at the string of my hoodie harder. “This kid at our school invited us to this party. Everyone was trashed, even me, but Historia wouldn’t drink. She said she had a bad feeling. I kept telling her to lighten up, but she wouldn’t listen. Called me a douche.”

I pause, taking a shaky breath, but Mina doesn’t say anything. I laugh bitterly and shake my head.

“She told me to stop acting like a dick because I wanted to look cool. Kept going on and on about how it was pathetic that I was trying to be something I wasn’t. She…uh, she grew up in foster care and got bounced from house to house a lot. Finally she was put into this house that wanted to adopt her.

I threw it in her face. Told her they didn’t give a fuck about her. Her biological parents changed her name before she got put into the system but once she was adopted she took back her birth name. I told her that going back to Historia would never get rid of Krista and that nobody wanted her and she just got lucky. It was fucked up and I felt like shit right after, but it didn’t matter by then. The damage was already done. She didn’t say a word. Just took off without even looking at me.”

“And how did you react?”

“I left right after,” I whisper. “I called my sister to come get me. That…that was the night Mikasa…”

“Oh, Eren,” Mina says softly. I curl my hands into fists.

“I’m sorry. Can we stop?” I ask quietly. My chest feels tight, but it’s the unbearable kind of tightness that makes me feel like I’m seconds away from passing out. Mina nods quickly.

“You did really well,” Mina says honestly. “Don’t push yourself.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice sounding rough, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize my eyes have built-up tears in them. A few spill over and roll down my cheeks. “Shit, sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” Mina says. “Don’t ever apologize for being hurt.”

I swallow hard.

“Thank you,” I say, and Mina smiles softly.

“No, Eren,” she murmurs. “Thank _you_.”


	24. Twenty-Four: Levi

As I rock back on my heels, I take a moment to appreciate how I always manage to get myself into situations I'd rather avoid. A vicious voice in the back of my head reminds me that the only reason I’m here is because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.

Inhaling deeply, I let my eyes lock with Marco Bott’s. He looks the same as ever. The only thing glaringly different is the amount of animosity in his eyes. I wince and force my eyes down to the ground, unable to keep looking at him. His expression is a clear reminder that yes, I’ve royally fucked up.

“Hey,” I say, and as soon as the word leaves my lips I wish I would've thought of something less dumb.

“Hi,” Marco says curtly. He crinkles his eyebrows. “Is this about the forensics report? I finished it and emailed it to Ms. Zoe so—”

“You know why I’m here, Marco,” I say, soft enough that even I have trouble hearing it, and I watch as Marco’s tough front comes crumbling away.

“I don’t really have anything to say to you.”

He’s not being vindictive. Marco would never be. He’s a good guy, the best of the best, the poster child for a mother’s dream and a rebellious son’s nightmare. No one’s ever said a bad thing about him. Marco makes sure he does the right thing, goes down a path that leads to success and a positive public image and all this other shit I don’t bother thinking out. In short, he’s about as close to flawless as someone our age can get.

I guess that’s why I feel like shit. Had I meant to blow up on him at Franz’s party? No. Of course not. But there had been something incredibly liberating about it. Maybe I was being a huge douche about the whole thing, but speaking the truth after so long felt like I had finally released myself from some heavy chains that had been weighing me down.

“Marco,” I say. My voice has a desperate edge that I ignore. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. My hands start shaking and I shove them deep into my pockets, hoping Marco doesn’t see how I’m seconds away from falling apart. “Please.”

His expression softens. I dig my fingernails into my palm, hard enough to hurt, and wait for him to say anything.

“Not here,” he finally mutters out.

My eyes drift past him into the living room. His little brother, hair mussed up from his nap and teddy bear tucked under his chubby arm, stares at me curiously. He smiles, even though it’s all gums, and I force myself to smile back.

“Okay,” I say, pleased we’re getting somewhere, and take a step back. “Let's go.”

* * *

The coffee shop is loud.

People keep walking in and out, the line snakes around the tables and leads out of the door, and all I can hear are shouted orders of cappuccinos and buttered bagels. I wonder for a minute if Marco chose this place just so he doesn’t have to listen to me. I instantly decide I deserve it if that’s the case.

“So?”

“I’m sorry,” I say instantly. Marco stares at me evenly and I take that as my cue to keep talking. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I know what it sounded like but—”

“But you didn’t mean it?” he offers. I shake my head.

“Not really,” I admit. “Some of it, yes, but I didn’t…I didn’t mean that I hated you or something like that.”

“I don’t think you should be apologizing to me.”

I lick my dry lips and focus my attention on a snow bank on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I know Eren’s your friend,” Marco says slowly. “No one’s saying you can’t be friends with him or whatever. But isn’t Reiner your friend too?”

“It’s not really about Reiner,” I admit. “Not much, anyway. I do think he’s an ass, but I’ve sucked it up enough to not really care that much.”

“Then why’d you blow up on me like that?”

Here it is. The moment I’ve been dreading is staring me straight in the face. I grab at random thing on the table. The napkin holder, the salt and pepper shakers, the little packets of sweetener, and whatever else I can touch gets mindlessly adjusted and moved. I keep my eyes down and try to repeat the words just as I’ve practiced.

“It’s too tiring,” I whisper. Marco purses his lips.

“Football?” he tries. I shrug and hesitantly meet his eyes.

“Not in a physical way,” I say, and his eyebrows crinkle.

“In what way, then?”

“Emotional. Mental. Shit like that,” I reply. I slide down a bit in my seat and press back against my chair. “It sounds kind of dumb when I put it like that.”

Marco doesn’t say anything. I rake my fingers through my hair shakily.

“There are a lot of expectations surrounding me, you know?” I start slowly. Marco sits up straight and I track the movement with my eyes. “I’m always Levi Ackerman, captain of the Titans.”

“People admire you.”

“Aren’t I more than that, though?” I ask. My voice has that horrific vulnerability in it again. “What good is it if that’s all that defines me?” I lean forward. “Levi Ackerman…”

“Levi Ackerman is more than just the captain of the football team,” Marco says firmly. I’m surprised he’s responding now. “God, Levi, why would you think any different?”

“It’s frustrating,” I continue. “Putting on a front. Pretending to be something I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?”

“People say Levi Ackerman is perfect,” I say, my voice dull, and Marco raises an eyebrow. “He’s this awesome guy everyone admires because he’s doing so many great things.” I pause, gathering my strength, and look him dead in the eyes. “That’s not me, Marco. I’m not Levi Ackerman. Levi Ackerman’s just a lie.”

“What are you talking about?” Marco asks gently. “You _are_ him.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” I say, grinding my teeth together. “I live two different lives, Marco. At school, it’s easy to be him. I have to keep up an appearance. Captains are supposed to support the team as a pillar of strength. Captains are supposed to keep it together when everything else falls apart.”

“What about Levi, then? What does he do?”

“Runs away. Hides. Lies. Pretends that everything’s fine because he’s piss-scared his little act is gonna come crashing down.”

“People do different things to protect themselves, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, thinking suddenly of Eren and all his coping mechanisms, and shut my eyes. “I don’t want to be Levi Ackerman. But…to be honest, I’m too afraid to just be _Levi_.”

“It’s okay, though,” Marco whispers. “Being just Levi, I mean. No one…no one would hate you for that.”

I don’t respond, not at first, because my mind’s a jumbled mess. I release a soft sigh and sit up straight, drumming my fingers against the cold surface of the table.

“I never told you what Bertolt said to me, right?” I begin. “The day I went to talk to him. Right after he quit.”

“No,” Marco says, drawing the word out a bit. “You just said he quit.”

“He told me football wasn’t something he needed,” I say, hearing Bertolt’s voice in my head as I speak, and something icy and cold curls around my heart and _squeezes_. “Said he was quitting because he didn’t even do it for himself. He did it because Reiner wanted him to, and he ended up hating it because it wasn’t something he even gave a shit about.”

“So what’d you tell him?”

“I got pissed at first,” I say. “Told him that the team wasn’t disposable. Douchey shit like that. I wanted him to tell me he wasn’t gonna quit. I told myself I didn’t understand why he’d do it for someone else. Told myself I joined the team ‘cause I knew I belonged there.”

“So what’s the truth?” Marco asks. I laugh bitterly.

“The truth is that Bertolt quitting reminded me that I didn’t have the balls to. I didn’t want to throw away the one thing that felt like it was suffocating me just because it gave me something to hide behind. Bertolt…he’s got a lot more courage than I’ll ever have. But I never said that to him. Fuck, I haven’t even talked to him since then. He’s just a reminder of who I should be but can’t because…because I’m _afraid_.”

My words hang in the air. My heart pounds rapidly in my hair, my palms damp with sweat, and I reluctantly meet Marco’s piercing gaze. His mouth drops open in shock, his eyes wide with it, and I wonder if I should’ve said anything at all.

Talking to Marco isn’t like talking to Eren. Eren doesn’t expect anything. He’s never really known me as Levi Ackerman. Maybe in the beginning he did, but all I’ve tried to show him was Levi. And maybe at first, I only knew him as Eren Jaeger. He was the kid no one paid attention to unless it was midnight and they were drunk out of their minds. He was the kind of kid no one wanted to be seen around because _god forbid_ their friends would see. But then he just became Eren to me. He became someone I could relate to because I understood his pain. I _felt_ that same pain, tried to avoid that same pain, and sometimes just let myself live in that pain.

But Marco? He’s never seen Levi. I’ve shown him Levi Ackerman because that’s who I’ve made myself out to be. I’m confident, I’m strong, and no one would ever think otherwise. I’ve never given them any reason to. But now? Now, everything’s different. The precarious line in the sand I’ve drawn between the two sides of me has been blurred. Now, I don’t know how to differentiate between the two. I don’t know which one I’m supposed to be and which one I actually am.

“I’m sorry,” Marco finally says, but he way he says it makes me wonder if the apology’s even more me in the first place. “Jesus Christ, Levi. I’m _sorry_.”

There a bitter taste in my mouth, now, and I’m suddenly ashamed. I feel my ears get hot with it, feel my hands clench into tight fists that hurt more than anything. Marco watches me like he’s looking at a bird with a broken wing, and I almost want to laugh at the mental image.

That’s what I’ve become, isn’t it? I’ve succumbed to my emotions, let them overwhelm me until I started drowning in them. I try to pinpoint the exact moment, the moment where I lost all control and just let everything pile onto me, but I can’t.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I say, and Marco looks at me guiltily.

I rub the back of my neck and flinch at the cold feel of my hands. It feels like an electric shock to my spine. I suddenly feel like I’m a stranger occupying another person’s body, like I’m not actually myself. I feel like I’m viewing everything through another person, and I can’t help but to think that this person can’t possibly be functional. I feel fucked-up, embarrassed, and _exhausted_.

“I never knew,” Marco says. “I always admired you, actually.” The words make me wince, but Marco keeps talking. It feels like slow torture, and I close my eyes as if that’ll somehow block it all out. “I always thought you were strong. I always thought that I’d like to be like you. A lot of the guys on the team think like that. Even Reiner, you know. You were like a brother to us. A kind of hero or something like that.”

“Marco—”

“If I had known,” he continues, cutting me off, “I would’ve helped you. I would’ve shouldered some of that weight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’re my friend,” Marco says, almost sternly, and I vaguely feel like I’m a child being reprimanded by their parent. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, I _will_. I don’t care if you think you’re being weak. Being vulnerable isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes we need to be vulnerable. If we always try to be strong all the time, it’ll only be a matter of time before we crack.”

I snort softly.

“Thank you, Socrates,” I say softly, trying to make a joke out of the situation, but the truth is that Marco’s just saying things I need to hear. The heaviness that had settled so strongly on me before feels like it’s being lifted. It’s only in small little increments, of course, but it’s a start.

Marco grins.

“Don’t thank me,” he says, and I wonder how I could’ve been such an ass to him. “Consider the first stop of your apology tour completed.”

“Huh?” I ask, confused, and Marco smiles sadly.

“Talk to Bertolt,” he says quietly. “He asked for you after he decided to quit. He wouldn’t even talk to Reiner. He trusts you a lot.”

I nod and look down at my hands. I had wanted to apologize to Bertolt for a while, but I always told myself that I had to find the perfect time to. It wasn’t that I was trying to procrastinate it. I just didn’t want to say anything until I felt like I understood him.

And now, I do.

“I will,” I say, and the smile on Marco’s face widens and morphs into something that bathes me in warmth.

* * *

With my eyes trained on the door before me and my hands in the pockets of my coat, I run through all the possible outcomes of this conversation. I stare at the elaborate bronze door knob, the water fountain that’s been turned off for the winter, and listen to the ominous squawks of the crows circling above me.

I lift one of my hands out of my pocket and knock firmly against the door. I wait for barely a minute before a woman with perfectly curled brown hair and soft green eyes opens the door. I recognize her almost instantly as Bertolt’s mother. My entire body goes stiff as I look at her.

“Oh,” she says, clearly surprised, and her red lips part to form a genial smile. “Are you one of Bertolt’s friends?”

“Yes ma’am,” I say. I wonder if I even have the privilege of calling myself that. I’m kind of a shitty friend, aren’t I?

“He’s in his room,” she says. It’s only then that I realize the stack of manila envelopes in her hands. She opens the door wider, inviting me inside, and I linger awkwardly by the door.

Mrs. Hoover grabs her coat from the rack behind the door and keeps smiling at me. I look everywhere but at her face because I don’t know what else to do.

“Well, I hope you two have fun. I wish I could stay and chat, but I have some business to attend to. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to tell Bertolt. One of the maids will be able to get it for you.”

 _One of the maids_.

I repeat the phrase in my mind multiple times. No matter what I do, it doesn’t take the strangeness of it away. Shaking my head to clear it, I give Mrs. Hoover a tense, forced smile.

“Sure, thanks,” I mutter, already starting for the stairs.

“Have a nice night!” Mrs. Hoover calls. Her heels click loudly against the floor. I listen as the door slams shut before I hesitantly grab onto the railing of the staircase.

With heavy steps, I walk upstairs. I don’t really know where I’m going. Whenever Bertolt had a party, I just stayed downstairs. People only went up to fuck, and that was never something I really wanted to do. Random hook-ups never intrigued me.

I wander down the hall, poking my head in every so often, and it’s by sheer luck that I happen upon Bertolt’s room. The doors leading out to his balcony are wide open. I watch as the thin curtains covering it flutter in the breeze. Bertolt’s outside, leaning against the railing, and I find myself chewing on the inside of my cheek.

My footsteps are soundless as I approach Bertolt. I linger in the doorway, trying to think of something to say, but it’s like all of my practice in front of the mirror had been for nothing. I don’t know what to say. Everything sounds dumb, and for once I’d like to pretend that natural conversations come easily to me.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Bertolt turns around to face me. He looks…different. There’s a solemn air surrounding him. He’s always been quiet, but there seems to be something different about it now. It’s the kind of quiet that comes from having something crush you from all sides, the kind of quiet that’s a result of just trying to get by without anyone saying anything, and the thought of him experiencing that makes me breathless in the worst kind of way.

“Levi?”

“Uh, hey,” I say, awkwardly, and my fingers find themselves at the hem of my coat. I tug at a loose thread and try to think of something else to fill the silence stretching out between us.

“What are you doing here?” Bertolt asks. He seems confused, and it’s not like I can really blame him for that.

“I think we should talk,” I reply. Bertolt raises himself up fully and gives me a curious look. I ignore the questions swimming in his eyes and chew at my lip. “I know it’s kind of sudden, but…”

I trail off, hoping Bertolt gets it, and he nods.

“I actually wanted to talk to you,” he says. He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “I owe you an explanation.”

“An explanation?” I echo, and I can only wonder what it could be about.

Bertolt smiles tightly and steps past me back into his room. I follow after him, shutting the balcony doors behind me, and let him lead me down to the kitchen. I watch his back as he makes himself a cup of coffee. Rubbing my arms awkwardly, I settle into one of the bar stools and wait for him to finish.

“Do you want anything to drink? Eat?”

“No,” I say. “I’m good.”

Bertolt shrugs a bit and settles in front of me. I stare at him, wondering if I should say something first, and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry,” I say instantly. “I never said that to you when you told me to quit. I let you apologize to me, but it should’ve been the other way around. I’m sorry I was such a dick. I’m sorry I acted like I couldn’t understand. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you since then.”

“I would’ve been angry too,” Bertolt says, tracing the handle of his mug with his finger. “I should’ve sucked it up. One more year wouldn’t have killed me.”

“Your happiness is more important than some stupid team,” I say. “Don’t let anyone make you think any differently.”

Bertolt looks at me in shock. I swallow hard.

“Do you keep in touch with anyone on the team?” I ask.

Bertolt scoffs softly.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I wasn’t really one of you guys, you know? Figured it’d be better if I didn’t. No one reached out to me either, so I guess the feeling was mutual.”

“I wanted to,” I say, and Bertolt gives me a look that basically screams _you didn’t_. “I swear to God, I never meant to just leave you alone like that.”

Bertolt shifts awkwardly and stares into his mug. I run my fingers through my hair and rest my elbows onto the counter.

“It’s fine. It’s all the past.”

“It’s not fine!” I say, unintentionally raising my voice, and Bertolt looks up at me quickly. “Look, Bertolt. I…I understood what you were saying that day. About not needing the team and all. But I didn’t want to admit it. You were able to do something to make yourself happy. I could only dream of doing that. It was like you were reminding me that I was lying to myself and everyone around me.”

Bertolt looks at me with interest. I swallow thickly and keep talking.

“I kind of blew up on Marco at a party,” I say. “Reiner was being Reiner and I basically said a big _fuck you_ to them. But…it’s not about Reiner. It never was. I just couldn’t handle the stress of putting up a front.”

Bertolt seems to shrink in on himself at that.

“I couldn’t either,” he mutters. “That’s why I quit.”

“I know,” I say softly. “And I get that. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we’re not so different. It was so easy for me to pretend that I was doing football because I wanted to. But really, I just wanted something to hide behind.”

Bertolt stays silent for a while. I swallow roughly, waiting, and when he clears his throat I look up at him.

“I slept with Reiner,” Bertolt says, so quickly that I almost miss it, and I choke on my own saliva.

“Is…” I struggle to find the right words. “Is that why you quit?”

“He was drunk and I was not,” Bertolt says, staring at something hard on the counter, and my stomach twists itself into knots so tight it physically hurts. “Sophomore year, after the game against Trost.”

I remember that game. Everyone had been so excited, so pumped up and charged with adrenaline. There had been an after-party at Reiner’s place, but I skipped out on it because I knew Kenny would flip out if I didn’t come home on time.

“That was a good game,” I say softly. Bertolt shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t know,” he says, smiling dryly. “Benchwarmer, you know.”

“What happened that night?” I ask. Bertolt’s smile slips away.

“Reiner and Franz got into an argument. Franz punched him and stormed off and Reiner…got really agitated. I had to make people leave because he started having a tantrum or something.”

“Bertolt…”

“I kissed him to shut him up.” Bertolt exhales shakily and ducks his head down. I feel incredibly nauseous. White noise fills my ears and I feel my body grow heavy. “I just…went with it. Never said no and never said yes.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, my head spinning, and the bile climbs up my throat. The acidic taste floods my mouth and I hunch over in my seat. “ _Fuck_.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure if I’m processing what he’s telling me. The words float around in my head, over and over, like a song on an endless loop.

“I couldn’t stand being around him,” Bertolt continues softly. “Just standing there, pretending it was all okay. I convinced myself it was just a drunk mistake, nothing more than that. But the longer I hid it, the more resentful I became. I quit before I blew up or something.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I repeat it a few more times. My eyes burn and my entire body feels like it got hit by a truck.

“I thought I loved him. But really, I never did. I was just trying to convince myself that everything was fine.”

“I should’ve known,” I say, my voice cracking. “I should’ve tried to help you. I should’ve…I should’ve done _something_!”

“I wasn’t trying to make it obvious,” Bertolt replies softly. “Levi…don’t blame yourself. I did for a while and it just sucks. Blame the person responsible.”

I think of Reiner. My mind isn’t filled with vicious death threats or promises to make him hurt as badly as he hurt Bertolt. I see his face in my mind’s eye and I’m filled with an overwhelming feeling of numbness.

“Eren was the first person I told,” Bertolt says, his voice small, and I swallow thickly at the sound of it. “I kinda broke down and told him everything. He got me help. I’m dealing with it now.”

Bertolt rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m not telling you because I want you to feel bad for me or anything like that. I’m telling you because I respect you and I think you deserve to know the truth.”

My body is covered in goosebumps. I feel like I can’t breathe. The heaviness I thought had been lifted comes crashing back down with enough force to make me wonder if I’ll be crushed flat under it.

“You didn’t owe me anything,” I whisper. “I should’ve been a better friend. I should’ve…”

Bertolt shakes his head.

“I’m okay, you know. Things…they’re getting better. I’m not there fully. But I’m getting _somewhere_.”

“Bertolt,” I say, my voice thin, and he looks right at me. “Thank you.”

He looks a little confused at first, but then he nods slowly.

“You’re welcome,” he says, slowly, and I wonder if I’m doing a good job of pretending now.

* * *

“Are you okay?”

I look over at Eren. I’m sitting on his bed, my back against the wall, staring at my lap. Eren’s doing something at his desk, but I’m too distracted to really pay attention. The numbness from before has come back full force. I play through my conversation with Bertolt over and over.

Reiner raped Bertolt.

Reiner _raped_ Bertolt.

I feel sick to my stomach all over again. My stomach churns almost endlessly. I listen as Eren pushes himself back from the desk and comes and sits down on the bed across from me.

“Levi?”

“Bertolt told me,” I whisper. “About Reiner.”

Eren’s eyes widen.

“When was this?”

“Today,” I say. “Before I came here.”

“…Is that why you came?”

I nod stiffly.

“I didn’t know.” My voice breaks on the last word. “I had no idea. I never sensed anything. I thought everything was okay and I—”

I cut myself off, a sob lodged halfway in my throat. I don’t realize tears are streaming down my face until Eren leans over me and wipes them away from his hands.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Levi?”

I hear his voice but I can’t really focus on it. He throws a leg over me and settles into my lap, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. I grab onto his waist as a way to ground myself and he presses our foreheads together.

“Just focus on me,” he whispers. “Keep looking at me, baby.”

I dig my fingers into his skin as if I’m trying to melt into him. My body shakes with the effort of holding back my sobs. I wrap my arms tight around him and squeeze, pressing my face against the base of his throat.

His hands move from my face to my hair. He runs his fingers through the strands and presses his face against my head. I let my tears soak his shirt and listen as his soothes me.

“It’s okay, baby. Just let it out. You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I couldn’t help him,” I say, finally opening my eyes, and my entire body feels heavy. “I had the nerve to think that I could support my team. But honestly? I never could.”

“Levi,” Eren says softly, moving back to look at me. He moves to get off of me, but I grab onto him to make him stay. “Please don’t blame yourself. I know Reiner’s an asshole, but Bertolt’s okay now. He’s going to get to a good place. He’s going to be just fine.”

“He had to lie,” I whisper. “He was ashamed. I made him do _that_. He should’ve felt like he could come to me. Not that he had to stay in a toxic environment for the sake of the stupid team. I can’t even protect myself. What made me think I could do that for someone else?”

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Eren tells me. “You can’t save everyone all of the time.”

“It was right in front of me and I was blind to his pain,” I mutter. I tighten my grip on Eren and slide him up further on my lap. “I won’t do that to you. I swear to God, Eren, I’ll be there when you need me.”

Eren’s eyes soften.

“I can take care of myself,” he replies, his voice subdued, and he twists a strand of my hair around his finger.

“You shouldn’t have to,” I say. “You shouldn’t have to go through anything alone.”

We stare at each other for a while, just listening to the sound of our combined breathing, and I find myself swallowing thickly past the obstructive lump in my throat.

“Promise me you’ll tell me,” I mumble. “Promise me you’ll tell me if something’s hurting you. You don’t have to lie about anything to me. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I know,” Eren whispers, looping his arms around my neck. “I’ll tell you everything. Promise.”

“Okay,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of his arm, and Eren gives me a tiny half-smile in response.


	25. Twenty-Five: Eren

10:29 am, Nick’s apartment.

I’m pleasantly buzzed, my head pressed back against the couch and my eyes trained on the ceiling. I’m in one of my moods, the one where I want to pretend that I don’t exist and that I don’t have to face whatever it is I’m constantly running away from.

The beer tastes more bitter than usual. It makes me nauseous after each careful sip I take. I ignore the taste, though, and fill my mouth with it until it threatens to burst through the seam of my lips. I let it settle onto my tongue, trickle down my throat slowly, disappear into the dark depths of my gut.

“Tell me about my sister.”

I turn to look at Nick, beer bottle still clasped tight around the neck, and he looks at me in surprise. His hair’s a mess, his nails bitten down and chewed up. He looks small, hunched over in the armchair by the window. The icy December air rushes through the small crack. There’s an open pack of Marlboro cigarettes on the coffee table, the ones infused with menthol, and Nick’s got one precariously held between two of his fingers.

Smoking’s just one of the qualities I can’t stand about him, but at the end of the day it’s his life. If he chooses to smoke, I can’t do anything to stop him. I couldn’t stop Mikasa either.

“What do you want me to say?” Nick asks slowly. He looks exhausted. I wonder if it has anything with me being here, if it has to do with how I tell him I don’t love him and yet insist on keeping him around. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spoken to him in God knows how long. Maybe it’s because he’s sick of how I keep using him.

Hell, maybe it has nothing to do with me at all.

“Something. Anything. Whatever you want.”

Nick stays silent. He rolls the cigarette between his fingers but doesn’t raise it to his lips. I watch as the end continues to burn up and flake off in big, grey ashes that he flicks away. Finally, he inhales deeply from it and leans his head back against the windowpane.

“Did you know I was sixteen when I met her?” he murmurs. I shake my head and he laughs quietly to himself. “I’m sure you know how that goes. Someone’s nice to you and you fall in love with them just like that. It’s easy to do stupid shit when you’re young and dumb.”

I grit my teeth at the words and look down at the plush rug beneath my feet. I curl my toes into it and think of all the stupid shit _I’ve_ done. Sitting on the couch of a guy seven years my senior and drinking cheap beer that’s doing nothing but fucking my liver up suddenly doesn’t seem as glamorous as it had before. Maybe it’s because now I’m keenly aware of everything I’m doing. I can’t just mindlessly do things and not worry about the consequences. Now, I feel like I have to answer to people.

The thought is frightening. It makes me feel suffocated and responsible, like a child and like an adult, and all these other contradictory feelings. I hate the way it feels, the way it makes me have to actually _think_ for once, but I guess it’s high time I stop acting so reckless. What goes up must come down, and I guess now’s my time to fall.

“How’d you meet her, anyway?”

“We were in some art class together,” he says, shrugging. “My parents wanted me to stop sitting around the house all day and that’s how I ended up there. I really admired her, you know. She was a natural.”

“Art was always her thing,” I murmur, rubbing my arm. “Dad always got pissed. He wanted her to go to law school or whatever, but Mikasa said she wouldn’t go to college if he didn’t let her do what she wanted. Mom convinced him that a kid with a degree was better than nothing, so he gave in and let her do it. Never encouraged it, but never stopped her either.”

“I sat by myself at first,” he says slowly. “But she came right up to me and introduced herself. Said I reminded her of her brother.”

My mouth drops open at that. Nick looks at me contemplatively, his lips pursed slightly.

“She talked about you a lot. A lot more than anyone ever talks about their siblings. Said you were something special.”

“Well?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Am I?”

“Yeah, Eren,” he whispers. “Of course you are. Never been anything less than special.”

“What else did she say to you?” I ask. Nick shrugs again, stubbing out the cigarette and crossing his arms.

“Just random shit, really. Whatever came to mind, I guess. We became friends and then the rest was history.”

“I feel like you’re leaving stuff out.”

Nick gives me a wry smile. “You don’t want to know those parts.”

“Maybe I do,” I say, sliding down in my seat. “It won’t hurt, you know.”

“Of course it won’t,” Nick mutters, laughing bitterly. “Nothing ever hurts the great Eren Jaeger. He’s fucking invincible.”

“Right,” I mumble. “That’s exactly it.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because it’s giving me something to do,” I say. “Nothing fucking hurts anymore. What harm could it possibly do?”

Nick makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and looks away. The entire room smells like cigarettes. I knock my head back against the couch and take a deep breath of air, letting the smell of it burn my nostrils and settle in my lungs. I wonder if it’s possible to drown myself in it, to let it become a part of me so deeply infused that I can’t get away from it no matter how hard I try.

“I loved your sister,” Nick says.

“You were _in_ love with my sister,” I mumble, half to myself and half to him, and I press the edge of the beer bottle against my lip. “You _are_ in love with her. You never stopped because you don’t know how to.”

“Why are you—?”

“It was never me you wanted,” I say, and I don’t know why I feel like I’ve discovered something.

I’ve known this for God knows how long. I’ve known that I was never the one Nick thought about, never once, but somehow I deluded myself into thinking I had that level of importance. I thought I was a replacement for Mikasa, but the truth is that he’s been just as confused as I have been. And hell, maybe I’m not the only one who’s been jerked around. Maybe he only cared because I was all he had left of her.

Nick stares at me like he doesn’t know what to say. And, judging by the silence that seems to stretch on for years, I guess he doesn’t. I stare back at him evenly, suddenly feeling very nauseous, and swallow hard past the lump in my throat.

“You never loved me,” I continue. “It was never even about _me_. All you saw when you looked at me was Mikasa.”

“That’s not true,” Nick says, sitting up straight and looking defensive. “That’s…that’s not fair, Eren.”

“The truth is never fair,” I mutter. “ _Love_ is never fair. I’m sure you know that better than anyone.”

“Then why go along with it?” Nick asks. “You’re saying you knew this whole time, right? So why not just stay out of it. Why’d you get involved?”

“You could never have Mikasa,” I mutter. “She had Jean and you knew that. But me? I was fair game. A forbidden fruit. The little brother you could sink your claws in. You never stood a chance with her, but you knew you could have me. I felt bad for you. I wanted to ruin someone else’s life besides mine. And you? God, you were so fucking _willing_.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Nick mutters, leaning forward and resting his head into his hands.

“I’m not trying to be an ass,” I mutter, suddenly feeling horrifically sober. “I’m just being honest.”

“Honest?” Nick hisses, shooting up. “You’re not being _honest_ , Eren, you’re being…”

“I’m being _what_?”

Nick clenches his jaw and doesn’t answer.

“We both know you didn’t come here just to kill some time.”

“Wonderful observation,” I say, clapping my hands sarcastically. “Really, dude, that’s gold.”

“What do you want me to say? Want me to tell you everything? I’ll tell you every goddamn detail. Would that satisfy you?”

“Sure,” I say evenly, shrugging. “The truth usually has a way of satisfying everyone, don’t you think?”

Nick settles back into his seat and nods slowly to himself.

“I knew you weren’t your sister. I knew you would never be what she was to me. But I went after you anyway because I knew I could. I don’t know if I ever fell in love with you. I don’t know if I’m even capable of saying I’ve ever loved anyone.”

“You know, I don’t remember the night she died,” I mutter. “When I went to therapy, they said it’s because it hurt so much that my body decided to file it away until I’m ready to deal with it. Isn’t that crazy? I thought it sounded like bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Eren, it’s just what happens,” Nick replies tiredly. I set my beer down and curl my knees up to my chest.

“Tell me what happened that night,” I whisper. “I want to know.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“What happened to telling the truth?”

“You’re being ridiculous now—”

“It can’t hurt more than it already does,” I tell him. “I’m already at rock bottom, Nick. There’s no way I can fall any further.”

“I’m scared you will,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not as down as you think. Maybe there’s more and you…and you just won’t admit it.”

“There’s not,” I say, digging my nails into my arm hard enough to hurt. It helps to ground me, though, so I do it harder until I find myself wondering if I’ll start bleeding. “There’s nowhere else for me to go after this.”

Nick closes his eyes and hangs his head back down again. I wonder if I’ve finally pushed him too far, if I’ve taken him somewhere where we can’t come back from, but then he raises himself up. I listen to the soft shuffle of his footsteps and watch as he drops himself down next to me on the couch. The cigarette smell is more intensely concentrated now, and it reminds me so much of Mikasa that my chest actually physically hurts. I think of her hunched over in the basement, oil pants smeared on a canvas and her hair hastily pulled away from her face, and the sight of it burns my retinas and my skin and just about every fucking inch of me.

“We were just hanging out,” he says, soft and slow, and I let the words sink in. “Nothing special, really. We talked about everything and nothing and it was nice. Really fucking _nice_. Then she got a call from you.”

“I was at a party,” I say. I’ve said it before, to Mina in her office, but Nick and I have never talked about it. Now seems like a good time. “Historia was with me. We…we, uh, used to be friends. I acted like a dick and she left my sorry ass there. I couldn’t stand being there when she left.”

“Mikasa was worried,” Nick continues, as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “You sounded drunk and she was scared. Thought you were gonna do something reckless.”

“I already had,” I mutter. “It was all downhill the second I decided to open my mouth.”

“I offered to drive her,” Nick says. “She’d taken the bus over and I knew it’d be faster if I took her. I was scared because she was. I hadn’t even met you at that point. You were a stranger to me. But you were important to her, and I decided that you had to be important to me too.”

“I didn’t think she’d come,” I admit. “I thought she’d tell my parents and they’d come get me. Sometimes I wish they had.”

“It was fine, you know,” Nick mumbles. “No traffic or anything like that. We were just driving. The light was green and I just went without thinking. But this guy…he came speeding from the side. I couldn’t react fast enough. It was like it was happening in slow motion. Before I knew it there was glass everywhere and Mikasa was screaming. And then it got silent. Really, really silent. I couldn’t hear anything.”

I look down at my hands, my body shaking. Nick doesn’t touch me and I’m glad he doesn’t.

“Jean came and got me instead. He was on patrol when he heard about it on the radio. Said we needed to go the hospital and that we didn’t have much time.” I shut my eyes and picture his worried face.

“She was already dead by the time the ambulance got her to the hospital. I had a broken nose and a broken rib, a few bruises here and there, and glass in places I didn’t know I could get glass in. But I was alive, and your sister wasn’t, and I realized right then and there that I was my fault. I killed her.”

“She would’ve never died if I didn’t call her,” I say. “I could’ve taken a bus home. I could’ve walked. I could’ve sucked it up and just stayed at that damn party.”

“She wouldn’t have died if we never got in that car,” Nick corrects me. I grind my teeth and look away. “She wouldn’t have died if I had been more careful.”

We fall into silence again, the kind where it’s obvious both parties want to say something but just don’t know what.

“You punched me,” Nick says, and I look over at him quickly.

“I don’t remember that,” I say quietly, and he shrugs.

“I deserved it. You came into the room I was in and blamed me for everything. I didn’t stop you because I knew you were right. Jean had to pull you off, you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be? You were angry and I just took your sister away from you. I understand why you did it.”

“I don’t know what to do without her,” I say. “There are reminders of her everywhere I look, but _she_ isn’t here. That’s what kills me.”

“I took advantage of you when I was down,” Nick says, an unreadable expression on his face. “I didn’t care about the consequences. I just cared about having a part of her with me.”

“I took advantage of you too,” I murmur. “You were just another notch on my belt at first, but then I got caught up in it. I loved the idea of you too much to let go.”

“We both used each other,” Nick says. “It’s unhealthy. This thing between us is _unhealthy_.”

“You mean it this time?” I ask, swallowing hard.  “Is this really the end for us now?”

“I hope so,” Nick replies truthfully. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s driving me crazy.”

“You think you’re the only one?” I scoff, shaking my head, and Nick tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

“You don’t need me anymore,” he says. “You can move on now. I’ll be fine.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’ll deal with it,” he says, sighing. “I’m not your problem anymore. I haven’t been your problem for a while.”

I avoid looking at him because I don’t know what will happen if I do. I listen as Nick shifts on the couch, the springs squeaking slightly beneath him as he does.

“He means a lot to you, right?” he mutters. There’s a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Who, Jean?”

“Nah. Your friend. Levi.”

“Levi,” I echo. I rest my cheek against my knees and manage a shrug. “Sure. He means a lot to me.”

“Do you love him?”

I snort. “I don’t know if I’m even capable of saying I’ve ever loved anyone.”

“Hah. Funny,” Nick says, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit amused. “I think you should.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s good to you.”

“You met him once.”

“Yeah, but I just know,” Nick says. He rakes his fingers through his hair. “As soon as he walked in here, I knew. I saw the way he looked at you and I knew I lost you.”

“I was never yours to begin with.”

“Maybe not,” Nick agrees. “I liked thinking you were, though. Made me feel like…”

“I know,” I say, not needing him to finish. “I get it.”

“Seriously, though,” he continues. “I meant what I said about letting yourself be happy. If he makes you happy, don’t hold back. Cherish him. Don’t let something that good slip away from you.”

“I’m not meant to have something that good,” I whisper. “Everything’s nice and all for now, but what about later? It’s just high school. Does it really mean anything?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. We both know he means something to you.”

“But—”

“There are no buts,” Nick says, softly reprimanding me, and I shut my eyes and just take in his words. “He’s changing you, but that’s not a bad thing. That just means you value him.”

“Nick…”

“You deserve to be loved. If it comes from him, don’t fight it. Don’t question every person that treats you right,” Nick says, then pauses and clenches his jaw. “I know I fucked you up. I messed with your head. I made you think what we were doing was right. I can’t ever apologize enough for that. But one day, when you’re older and happy and doing just fine, I hope you can forgive me. I hope you won’t hate me for what I’ve done to you.”

I feel breathless.

“Nick, you never meant to hurt me.”

“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did. Don’t base your future relationships off of what happened between us. If your relationship with him is nothing like ours was, then that’s _good_.”

I run his words over in my head a few times, trying my best to comprehend them. I lick my dry lips and uncurl my legs, letting them fall limply towards the ground.

“Thank you,” I say, because there’s nothing else I can say at this point.

Nick stands up and I do too. I put my shoes on in a daze and watch a he stands still in front of me. He doesn’t look like the Nick I’m used to. The Nick I knew was always confident. He always had his head up, never gave anyone a reason to think he wasn’t okay. But this Nick is broken. This Nick looks like a man that’s lost everything.

I zip my jacket up to the base of my neck. I guess he _has_ lost everything.

“Don’t come back here,” he says, his hands curling around my shoulders. He runs them down across my arms, cups my face, grabs lightly onto my waist. “You don’t need me anymore, Eren.”

“Are you kicking me out?” I ask with a wry grin. Nick smirks back.

“Something like that,” he says. He furrows his eyebrows before he drags me towards him and squeezes. I clutch the fabric of his shirt in my hands and bury my face into his chest. I don’t want to let go. But Nick is a part of my past, and Levi is now my future, and I can’t possibly hold on to them both.

Nick’s made his decision. It’s time for me to make mine.

I pull back from the hug and stare up at him, trying to memorize every detail of his face.

“Take care of yourself,” he says.

“You too,” I say, and I do my best to ignore how my voice cracks the slightest bit. “Goodbye, Nick.”

“Goodbye, Eren,” he says, and when the door clicks shut behind me I feel like I can finally breathe again.

* * *

11:40 am, Mina’s office.

It’s nearing the end of my appointment. We’ve discussed Mikasa a bit, touched briefly on the night she died, and somehow ended up talking about Historia. I’m currently staring at the legs of Mina’s chair, zoning out, when her voice brings me back down to Earth.

“Have you thought about reaching out to her?”

“Huh?”

“Historia,” Mina clarifies, smiling slightly at my confused expression. “You mentioned you two were close before your falling out.”

“Well yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I still feel out of it after my conversation with Nick, but Mina had me promise to come to her regularly for a while. Just until I get my shit figured out, at least. “But we kinda didn’t have a clean break.”

“Do you find yourself regretting that you didn’t?”

“Sometimes,” I admit. “She was a big part of my life. We were friends for years.”

“It’s rare that we find friends like that in life,” Mina says softly. “Most people drift in and out our lives and we don’t even realize it. But there are some that linger and leave an impact on us.”

“Historia was like that,” I whisper. I shake my head and look down at the ground. “I miss her every day. I regret the shit that I did to her all the time. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. The past is the past and all that.”

“But is she really a part of your past?” Mina asks. I feel my eyes grow wide at the question. I swallow hard and repeat her words over and over.

“No,” I say, and the word tastes acidic on my tongue. “She isn’t. I’m just scared.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I feel like it’s too late,” I mutter, rubbing my arm. Mina laughs softly.

“It’s never too late to do anything,” Mina says. “You have the power to change your life. You can mold it into whatever you want it to be. You can have whoever you want in it. It’s never too late to reinvent yourself.”

“You really believe that?” I ask skeptically.

“I wouldn’t tell you so if I didn’t,” she says. “I’m not saying you have to rebuild anything with her right now. It’s up to you how you decide to approach things with Historia. But if she means as much to you as you’ve said she does, then maybe sooner may be better than later.”

“Right,” I say, slowly, and Mina closes the lid of her laptop.

“I know you’ll do the right thing, Eren,” she says, grabbing one of her appointment cards. “You may not realize it now, but you’re a far better person than you make yourself out to be.”

I swallow hard and decide not to answer. Mina hands me over the card and reminds me to take it easy. I nod, pocket it, and let myself out of the house.

It’s snowing when I step out onto the porch. I yank the hood of my coat up and slide my hands into my pockets. The walk home seems longer, and I wonder if it’s because I’m so cold than I can literally feel my legs locking up with each step I take.

It occurs to me suddenly that Historia lives somewhere near here. I don’t know why I think of it. I chalk it up to my conversation with Mina and keep walking, my head down and my hands curling into fists. I wish I had my headphones. I wish I was home. I wish I never fucked up in the first place.

I stop again, gritting my teeth. My heart drums loudly in my ears. I can hear the roar of my blood in my ears, and before I know it I’m crossing the street and walking down that familiar street. It’s not that much different than my own, but I guess it’s foreign to me because it’s been nearly two years since I’ve walked down it.

Historia’s house looks no different than usual. I stand awkwardly at the mouth of my driveway, trying to figure out what to do. I want to walk back home. I want to walk up to her door. I want to pretend I never thought of this. I want to be glad I thought of this.

With a reminder to myself to stop being a coward, and I walk forward. I swallow hard and tug my hood down lower over my head. I rehearse some casual greetings, but eventually give up and knock my knuckles firmly against the door.

No one opens it for a few moments, and that’s enough for me to lose my nerve. I’m half a second from turning away when it opens and Historia herself stands in the doorway.

She looks like she’s about to pass out when she gets her eyes on me. I smirk and jerk my thumb out towards her driveway.

“You look like you need your driveway shoveled,” I say. “I don’t charge that much, I swear.”

“You fucking prick,” she says, sounding breathless, and she pulls me down into quite possibly the tightest hug I’ve ever taken part in. “You absolute _ass_.”

I shut my eyes and hug her back. My teeth are chattering and my whole entire body is shivering, but I don’t want to let go of her for anything. Historia pulls back, enough so that I’m able to look at her face, and she shakes her head.

“I swear I’m dreaming,” she mutters.

“I could always pinch you.”

“I’ll pass,” she says. She lets go of me and steps aside. “C’mon, it’s cold.”

I linger awkwardly on the porch, wondering if I’m really ready to make this step, but then Historia smiles gently and grabs my hand. I let her lead me inside.

“I think we have a lot to catch up on,” she says, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her knuckles, and I nod.

“Yeah,” I say, exhaling softly and grinning. “I think we do.”


	26. Twenty-Six: Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i didn't forget about this story lol
> 
> unedited, but i'm exhausted so i'll revisit it again...eventually

I wake up to the sound of laughter.

It’s a strange sound. I’ve never associated laughter, or any form of happiness, with this house. I cushion the back of my head with my folded arms and focus on the sound. It fills me with a strange feeling that I can’t quite place my finger on. My mouth goes dry, my body numb, and my heart begins to _ache_.

The laugh isn’t just any laugh. It’s not a movie character or one of Kenny’s co-workers. It’s my _mother_ , and I’m throwing the blankets off of myself before I can stop it. My bare feet slap against the wooden floor loudly as I race towards the door and throw it open.

The sound is louder in the hall. I stumble downstairs, nearly planting face-first onto the ground. I’m breathless by the time I manage to skid into the living room. My eyes are glued to the television. I watch as my mother smiles widely at the camera, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and strikes an elaborate pose. She’s young, probably about my age, but so much more vibrant than I’ll ever be.

 _“Happy birthday, Kuchel_ ,” Kenny says from the tape. My eyes slide over to him and I watch as the real-life Kenny mouths the words to himself. _“How old are you now?”_

 _“Eighteen,”_ my mother answers, smirking and proudly holding up two icing-covered candles shaped into a one and an eight.

 _“Welcome to adulthood, sis. What’d you wish for?_ ”

My mother laughs again. The sound is beautiful. Mesmerizing, even, and I sink down to my knees. My chest feels unbearably tight and I can’t breathe. I don’t even know if Kenny’s noticed me yet or not, but I can’t find it in myself to care. The only thing that fills every single crevice of my mind is Mom.

 _“I can’t tell you, silly_ ,” Mom says, pulling a face. _“Then it won’t come true!_ ”

She throws her head back and laughs. Kenny fast forwards the tape before suddenly pressing play again. I stare blankly at the screen, watching as a small child frowns down at a rather ugly drawing of what I guess is supposed to be a fire truck. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m staring at _myself_. I don’t remember this particular time at all, and I watch in interest as the scene plays out. It doesn’t feel like a part of my life. It feels like I’m watching a movie of someone else’s experiences and none of my own, as if I’m _not_ the person currently on screen.

“ _It’s my birthday today. But I don’t know what to wish for now_ ,” Mom says, sounding solemn. “ _When I was younger, I always wished I would become famous. That was my dream, Levi._ ”

The camera zooms into my face. I look confused, which makes sense considering how I can’t be older than five. I tilt my head to the side and watch my mother calmly. I swallow hard when I see the expression on my face.

“ _Now I just wish that I was someone you won’t grow up to be ashamed of_ ,” she whispers, sounding broken. There’s the sound of something shuffling and then Mom crouches down so that the camera is level with my face. She laughs softly. “ _Most of all, I wish that **you** can make your dreams come true. I know you can. I know you’ll be something great, Levi._ ”

The me on screen looks at her before frowning deeply. “ _I’m hungry, Mommy._ ”

Mom chuckles again, rich and genuine, and Kenny shuts the television off abruptly. The house is filled with silence. My mother’s laugh haunts me and I shut my eyes and drop my chin down to my chest.

“…What are you doing?” I finally ask, opening my eyes. My voice is raw and hoarse, and I clear my throat softly.

“Have you ever watched this?” Kenny asks. His voice sounds casual, as if we’re discussing a recent movie or some shit like that, and my stomach churns violently.

“No,” I respond curtly. Kenny drums his fingers on the armrest of his favorite goddamn chair.

“I found this when I helped you move in,” he says quietly. “I think your mother made it for you.”

My heart seizes up painfully. My breath escapes me as if I’ve gotten the air punched out of my lungs. Kenny gazes at me evenly and I vaguely wonder how sober he is right now.

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve watched this hundreds of times,” Kenny continues on. “I keep thinking it’ll change, that she’ll go back to the sister I remembered. But she never does. If anything, I feel like I’m watching that sister die year by year.”

I look away, grinding my teeth together hard enough to hurt.

“Why?” I ask, but I’m not even sure what I want him to say.

“Your mother was a victim of circumstance,” Kenny says, his voice gravelly, and I keep my eyes trained on the wall beside me. I can’t bear to look at him. “She had all these great plans in life, but the truth is that she was never meant to be as wonderful as she thought she would be.”

I’m up on my feet suddenly, moving so fast that my head spins with the sudden change, but I don’t even care. I storm over to Kenny and fist the collar of his shirt in my hands. I’m not sure what gives me the courage to do so, but I ignore the part of my mind that’s screaming at me to stop. My body trembles hard and my fingers curl so tight that I wonder if Kenny’s shirt will rip.

“That’s not fucking true,” I say, overcome with an emotion I can’t place, and Kenny lies back like a limp rag doll against the chair.

“It’s easy to blame you, you know,” he murmurs. I loosen my grip at that, the tension slowly seeping out of my body.

“W-What?” I stammer. Kenny blinks slowly and I take a step back, feeling as if there’s a hand around my throat that’s pressing down and just _squeezing_.

“I could’ve blamed our parents for kicking her out. That’s what started this whole mess, isn’t it? She got kicked out and had to find a way to support herself. She didn’t have a college education or a high school diploma. That’s why she had to sell herself, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer. Kenny doesn’t wait for me to.

“I should blame the people who took advantage of her. I should blame the world for robbing her of everything. I should blame your father for running away. But instead, I blamed you. I told her she couldn’t have you. I told her that you’d only be a burden to her. But she couldn’t bring herself to resent you. She loved you more than anybody on this goddamn planet because you were _hers_. She knew no one was gonna take you from her. You were the first thing she felt really mattered.”

“Well, why blame me, then?” I ask slowly, my voice so stable and even it shocks me.

“Because I knew you’d never fight it,” he whispers. “I wanted a victim to pin my pain on and you were the perfect candidate.”

I look away again, sick to my stomach, and listen as Kenny takes a shuddery breath.

“She thought I’d take care of you. That I’d treat you just like she would.”

I lick my dry lips and bite down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. The fading bruises on my stomach throb in pain, as if to show how ironic this whole situation is.

“I was never meant to care for someone,” he mutters. “Your mother was the last person I was able to do that for.” He rests his face on his fist and stares at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say instantly, but then Kenny smirks.

“You’re not,” he says, laughing quietly. “You know it’s not your fault. You’re just trying to appease me.”

I shift awkwardly, wrapping an arm around my stomach out of instinct, and look at him. “Well…are you sorry, then?”

“Yeah,” Kenny says, looking strangely peaceful. My mind races as it struggles to comprehend the words leaving his lips. “I am sorry.”

I don’t know what to say. Hell, I don’t even know if I _should_ say something. All I can do is watch as Kenny stands up and ejects the tape. He walks over to me, flipping it over between his fingers, before handing it over.

“Here. It’s yours.”

I slowly grab the tape. It’s small, small enough to fit almost perfectly in the palm of my hands. It feels like it’s trying to burn a hole through my skin, and I wonder how such an innocent little thing can cause so much pain.

“Should I watch it?” I ask around the lump of my throat.

Kenny smiles sadly.

“That’s for you to decide.”

He steps around me and shuffles into the kitchen. I listen as he prepares himself a drink, focusing on the sound of the ice cubes clinking in one of his liquor glasses. I curl my fingers over the tape and close my eyes shut tightly.

* * *

I don’t watch the tape.

I go upstairs. I take a shower so hot that my skin is bright red when I step out. I dress myself slowly and tug the hood of my sweatshirt up over my still damp hair. I slide the tape into my pocket and grip my car keys tight in my hands.

When I make my way downstairs, Kenny’s lounging on the couch. I linger in the doorway, just watching him, until he looks up and glances my way. He raises an eyebrow but I say nothing and walk over to the closet to put my shoes on.

Exhaling loudly, I grab the doorknob and yank hard on it. I’m instantly pelted by a gust of cold wind. I blink tiny snowflakes out of my eyes and make my way to my car. I sit in the front seat for a while, the heater on full blast in a lame attempt to dry my hair, before I grip the steering wheel tight and shift the gear.

My heart hammers in my chest during the entire car ride. I ignore the pulsing of my blood in my ears and focus all of my attention on the road. There aren’t many people out, but I guess that’s because it’s not even seven in the morning yet. The sun has practically just come out and I imagine people are slowly rolling out of their beds.

I run my fingers through my hair and keep driving, going much slower than I really should. I’m too distracted to go the normal speed limit, though. I keep going on, my palms growing sweaty. I flick the heater off and exhale shakily.

My mind’s screaming at me to go back, to chuck this tape and curl up on my bed, but I can’t. I park in front of the familiar building and sit there for a while, feeling uncomfortable and anxious and shit ton of other emotions. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I'm expecting from this, but all I want is some sort of distraction.

Finally, I get out of the car. Snow crunches beneath my feet but I pay it no attention. I yank over the doors and step in slowly, wiping my feet off on the mat. The librarian smiles genially at me, but I ignore him and peer over at the computer section.

My heart clenches when my eyes land on Isabel. She’s traded her usual pigtails for a messy bun. She looks different but familiar at the same time, and I thank my lucky stars that I know her so damn well. If she hadn’t been here, I would’ve lost my nerve all together.

I approach her slowly, wringing my hands. I don’t even have to say anything because she happens to look over at me halfway through my walk towards her. She sits up straighter in her seat, her shoulders tense, and I swallow roughly.

Neither of us says anything. Her hands are still poised over the keyboard, and I’m close enough to see that her fingers are trembling.

I shuffle forward before I sink to my knees. I tilt my head down and curl my hands into fists before I bite hard on the inside of my cheek. I can feel her watching me and I take a shuddery breath, willing myself not to lose my will.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice low. “I’m so goddamn _sorry_. I know that’s not enough. I know I pushed you away for no reason and nothing can fix that. But…but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand this anymore. I’m _sorry_ , Iz. Please…please just…” I trail off, unable to finish because there’s a lump in my throat and hot tears forming in my eyes.

Isabel pushes her chair back and gets up. My heart drops down to the pit of my stomach and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. But then there’s a warm hand on the side of my face and I feel Isabel’s thumb press briefly to the corner of my eyes.

“I thought I’d feel different about this, you know,” she says, her voice solemn, and I look at her hesitantly. She’s openly crying but I can’t bring it in myself to move. Maybe I want to see that I’m not the only one affected by all of this. Maybe I just want to see Isabel’s tough front crack. “I thought I’d be able to laugh and tell you to go fuck yourself. But I can’t do that because…because I’m sorry too.”

I exhale shakily, relieved, and Isabel smiles through her tears.

“What took you so long, huh?” she asks, and I laugh wetly.

“I don’t know,” I admit, sniffling and shrugging helplessly. “I guess I just needed to be alone before I realized you were right.”

“Right…?”

“Friends aren’t replaceable,” I murmur. “Good friends, I mean. I’m sorry that I changed so much.”

“Don’t be sorry for that,” Isabel says, shocking me. “Everyone changes. It’s what you _make_ of those changes that matters.”

I suck in a deep breath and get up slowly, my legs feeling stiff. Isabel follows my lead before she wipes at her face with the sleeves of her sweater.

“C’mon,” she says, jerking her head towards the exit. “I think we should talk.”

We end up at a McDonald’s. Isabel’s always loved their mocha frappes, so I’m not surprised when she orders one and all but squeals after taking a sip. I laugh at her and follow her to one of the booths in the back. I’m too shaken up from earlier to eat, so I just sit there and watch as she enjoys her drinks.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she starts, swirling her straw around in her cup. “But what changed?”

“I think I hit rock bottom,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Things were bad and they just…snowballed.”

Isabel looks at me sadly. “I’m sorry.”

I smile bitterly.

“Don’t be. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I did, though,” she says, pursing her lips. “I ignored you all this time. I acted like I didn’t care even though I really did just to prove a point.”

“Well, did you?”

“No,” she says, scoffing. “I just made an ass of myself.”

I shrug noncommittally and bite my lip. “What happened to us, anyway?”

Isabel gets tense again and looks down at the table.

“I thought you were going to leave us behind,” she admits softly. “It sounds so stupid now, but it’s what I thought at the time. I was so worried that you’d forget about me and Farlan. But honestly, I think I was just jealous.”

“Jealous?” I echo. Isabel smirks bitterly.

“It’s like you were a flower or something,” she says, sounding awed, and I shift awkwardly in my seat. “When you were with us, you were different. Quiet. Subdued, I guess. But once you joined the football team, you were this whole other guy. You blossomed. You were _Levi Ackerman_. You were outgoing…vibrant. I was happy that _you_ were happy. But then…then I started questioning why you were different. If that’s who you were, then why weren’t you ever like that around _me_? I thought I was holding you back. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I pushed you away.”

I look down at my hands, ashamed.

“That’s not me, Iz,” I say quietly. “I’m not that guy. I was trying to fit into a role. I was trying to reinvent myself into something new. I thought it was the only way I’d be able to be happy. I didn’t like who I was. I didn’t like the life I was living. I wanted an escape.”

Isabel reaches across the table for my hand and I curl it around hers without a second thought. There’s something comforting about her touch, something that suddenly reminds me that it’s okay to be just _Levi_ , and I feel a jolt of pleasure at the thought.

“You don’t have to be anyone,” she says encouragingly. “Just be yourself.”

“I know that now,” I say, twisting my lips to the side. “I just wish I knew it then. Maybe things could have been different.”

“I’m glad things turned out the way they did,” Isabel admits. “I…I think we needed this.”

I nod slowly. Isabel lets go of my hand and wraps both of hers around her drink.

“How’d you know where to find me?” she asks curiously. I shrug.

“I had a feeling. Lucky guess.”

“Huh,” she says, taking a short sip through her straw. “So…what’s new?”

I laugh loudly at that. Isabel laughs too, her eyes sparkling, and I can’t help but to regret missing out on all of this. She’s looking at me expectantly, though, so I tell her an extremely watered down version of whatever’s really important. Which, honestly, boils down to a few things:

Football, Sammy, and…Eren.

I leave out most of the intimate details, but Isabel gets a knowing look in her eyes.

“They’re good to you,” she says. “Your teammates, I mean.”

I shrug. “They’re good people. Hard-working. Kind. Shit like that.”

“All of them?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. I snort.

“ _Most_.”

“Of course,” she says. “God doesn’t give with both hands, right?”

I can’t help but to laugh again. Isabel shakes her head suddenly.

“Also, your dad’s a dick.”

“You’ve been telling me that for years,” I say, my lips curling up at the corners, and Isabel rolls her eyes.

“How could he leave your _mom_? Kuchel Ackerman…” she trails off suddenly, her eyes growing wide, and I swallow hard. The tape in my pocket suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I say numbly.

There’s an awkward silence around us. I look at the colorful tiles on the wall before Isabel clears her throat, effectively capturing my attention once again.

“So…Eren Jaeger, huh?”

I snort and lean back in my seat. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like _what_?” she asks, but she’s smirking. “Look, can you honestly blame me? I mean, he’s _Eren Jaeger_. He’s like…I dunno, on some other planet or something.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I admit, scratching the back of my neck. Isabel raises an eyebrow.

“You trust him.”

“Of course,” I answer without hesitation.

“It’s kinda unexpected,” she says, looking a little curious. “I never would have imagined you would be friends. You guys are way different, you know?”

“Nah,” I say, shaking my head and biting back a smile. “We’re not that different at all.”

“Huh,” Isabel says, suddenly smirking again, and I tilt my head a bit to the side.

“What?” I ask, my ears growing hot, and Isabel hums softly.

“Nothing,” she says, standing to her feet with a flourish. “C’mon. I’m sure Farlan would love to hear the gang’s back together.”

I snicker but follow after her anyway.

* * *

After spending most of the morning hanging out with Isabel and Farlan, I find myself sitting in my car again. I rake my fingers through my hair and lean back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. I feel…different. I don’t know how to describe the feeling coursing through me, but it’s something close to feeling whole again.

But then I remember the tape, and that feeling of serenity comes crashing down. I swallow roughly, my fingers itching to grab it and toss it away, to pretend it doesn’t exist, but I _can’t_. It’s a piece of my mother, a fragment of her I don’t have the heart to get rid of.

I owe it to her. After all I’ve put her through, I owe her this.

I put the car in gear and drive back home. I feel boneless, but I know I have to go through with this. I keep that thought firmly in mind as I pull into the driveway and get out of the car. I grip the tape hard enough to hurt and take a few slow, calming breaths.

I all but trudge upstairs to my room. I turn my television on, push the tape into the player, and take a seat on the foot of my bed.

It opens with a scene of Mom, probably under a year old. She has a gummy smile and few tufts of silky black hair on her head. I laugh softly as she crawls towards the camera and plants a wet, slobbery kiss onto the lens.

“ _August eighteenth_ ,” someone says. It sounds like a woman and I assume it’s my grandmother. I never met any of my grandparents, since they all died before I was born. The woman on the screen laughs quietly, and the sound is almost like Mom’s laugh. “ _A star is born_.”

I watch my mother grow up before my eyes. Plays, auditions, shots of her and her friends goofing around. Birthdays. A short clip of her and Kenny trying to pose for a family picture. Then, there’s a gap between the footage. The next video shows my mother older, probably in her early twenties, with a baby in her arms.

She looks frail on the hospital bed. She smiles, though, and I guess that’s how she’s always been. Mom always knew how to put on a performance. It’s as if she felt she always had to act, whether or not someone was watching. She was good at it, but not good enough for me to forget that we were struggling.

“ _December twenty-fifth_ ,” Mom says, her voice soft and quiet. She shows me off to the camera and it zooms in so that only I’m visible in the cradle of her arms. “ _A star is born_.”

I inhale sharply. I watch blankly as my own life plays out before me. The more recent the video gets, the tighter the hand around my heart appears to squeeze. Before I know it, I’m watching myself about to enter high school.

I’m standing in front of Shiganshina High, my head bowed. I’m avoiding looking at the camera, but Mom doesn’t stop trying to get a good shot of me.

“ _C’mon, I’m gonna be late_ ,” my past self says, sounding awfully pissed, and Mom snickers.

“ _Just humor me, honey. It’s your first day of high school. How do you feel_?”

My expression softens and I look ashamed of myself. I smile wryly at the camera and shrug.

“ _I feel fine._ ”

“ _Yeah? Are you excited?”_

“ _Sure, Mom. I’m excited._ ”

Suddenly, the sound of bell ringing echoes in my ear. On screen, my eyes go wide and I sprint off towards the school’s entrance. Mom laughs almost obnoxiously loud.

“ _There you go, running off on me again_ ,” she says fondly. “ _I don’t mind, you know. Just don’t run too far! I can’t have you leaving me behind_.”

Her words make sudden tears spring to my eyes. I will them away and force myself to continue through the rest of the tape. I don’t know how long I’ve been watching it for. It doesn’t matter, though. I…I want to see why she left this for me.

Suddenly, the entire mood shifts. The next clip starts and I know I’ve reached _it_.

My mom looks solemn as she sits in front of the camera. She flashes a brief smile, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. I swallow past the lump in my throat and wonder if I’ll be able to get through this.

“ _Hi, my love_ ,” Mom says, her voice subdued. “ _I don’t know how to do this, but I guess I’ll just have to try.”_

She pauses, looking down at her lap. She takes a shaky breath and continues.

“ _Life has been unfair to you, Levi. I know that. I know that I’m to blame._ ”

Mom bites down onto her lip. I wonder why she’d think I’d ever be able to forget her.

“ _I bet you’ve asked why we had to live like we did. I think the most common question people ask is ‘why’. No matter what it is, people want to know the meaning behind things. Growing up, I used to ask why all the time. I was always very curious. You were the same way when you were a little boy._ ”

We both smile at the same time, but mine fades when I see the pain in my mother’s eyes.

“ _I stopped asking why once my parents disowned me. They didn’t believe in my dreams and couldn’t support them. I didn’t ask why because for once, I didn’t want an answer. I knew it would hurt me, and that’s why I didn’t question it. I think it’s okay not to know sometimes. If it’ll protect you in the end, then there’s no harm._ ”

Mom pauses again, pressing her hand to her forehead and pushing hair back away from her eyes.

“ _But…you should make that decision. You have to be the one to decide to not know, not anyone else. That’s why I’m doing this. No one will force you to watch this. It’s all up to you, honey. Hey, you can even turn back now if you want._ ”

She stares into the camera and I contemplate switching the television off. My fingers twitch, eager to do just that, but the rest of my body is frozen. I can’t look away from the screen. I can’t do anything but watch.

“ _If you’re still watching, I’m proud of you. Even if you turned this off and burned this tape, I’d be proud of you. There’s nothing you can do that would ever make me turn on you. You’re my little star, Levi. You always will be._

_But…I have to say that I’m sorry. I know you aren’t proud of me. I can say that what I did was for you, and that would be the truth. But that would also be overlooking the fact that you were always a smart little boy. You knew things I only hoped you would stay oblivious to. I think that’s what hurts me the most about all of this. I couldn’t give you the normal childhood you deserved._

_Kenny…well, Uncle Kenny to you…._ ”

Mom stops, sucks in a breath, and continues. I unconsciously find myself doing the same.

“ _Your uncle Kenny didn’t want me to have you. But like I said, I’m selfish. I wanted my baby. I wanted **you**. I didn’t even think about my circumstances. I just thought that I had to protect you with everything that I had._

 _But I never protected you, did I? You never got to grow up normally. I scarred you without even trying. I’m…I’m so sorry, Levi. Do you believe me when I say that_?”

I find myself nodding even though she can’t see me, but then Mom smiles like she knows exactly what I’m doing.

“ _I told myself I’d never leave you. And I honestly thought that I never would. But I never imagined that I would be so hurt. I thought that my experiences would make me stronger. But they only made me weaker. I grew more fragile as time went on. As my body wore down, so did my body._ ”

I flinch, thinking of how I had witnessed her whittle down into nothing.

“ _My purpose in telling you this is not to make you feel sorry for me or yourself,”_ Mom says. “ _I know things are hard now. I know you must hate me. I know that once you graduate, you probably won’t want anything to do with me. So I guess this is my way of healing you. I’m so, so sorry that you had to see the things you did. I’m so sorry I’m not a better mother._ ”

Mom starts to cry, then, and I watch as tears roll silently down her cheeks. She sniffles loudly and brushes them away, shaking her head.

“ _But the biggest thing I want to say is that I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I want you to remember your struggles and let them motivate you. Don’t let them overtake you like they have done to me. I…I know things are hard now. But I want to promise you that things will get better._

 _I know you’re probably wondering why Uncle Kenny’s around so much suddenly. You probably think there’s no good reason for it. I…I just want to make sure we all have a close bond. Family was never something I believed in. But you don’t deserve to share that with me._ ”

She gives the camera a watery smile.

“ _Believe in your family, Levi—”_

 _“Mom?”_ I’m shocked to hear my own voice. “ _I’m home!_ ”

Mom wipes rapidly at her face before she looks into the camera again.

“ _I’ll make it up to you, Levi. Just…believe in me_.”

The video cuts off into static before it goes black and silent. I stare at the screen blankly, my entire body shaking, and I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel the tears splash down onto my hands.

I sit there and _sob_ , not even caring who hears me. I can’t stop even when I try to take in deep breaths or distract myself. How can I not cry, after all? My mother loved me. I know that.

She just didn’t love me enough to keep living.


	27. Twenty-Seven: Eren

12:13 pm, Historia’s house.

I’m still standing in her doorway, hands shoved down as deep as they’ll go into my pockets. I chew at the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste the coppery tang of blood and reluctantly raise my eyes to meet hers.

Historia looks at me like I’m a ghost, or something just as strange. I guess I can’t really blame her. The end of our relationship had come suddenly, without a single warning. There hadn’t been time for anything even remotely near closure.

Historia tugs at the hem of her sweater. I watch blankly as she twists the fabric around her fingers a few times before she releases a heavy breath that thunders in the silence between us.

“Do you wanna sit down?” she asks. She pauses then, puffing her cheeks out slightly. “You should sit down, Eren.”

“Okay,” I say. It doesn’t matter that I’m thinking of a billion excuses to get away from this. It doesn’t matter that I’m too fucking afraid to face Historia now.

She leads away from the door and into the kitchen. I take my boots off but leave my coat on. It helps me to feel less welcomed. The last thing I want to feel is _welcomed_. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a goddamn thing.

I sit stiffly on one of the stools lined up in front of the counter. Historia watches me contemplatively before she snorts, the sound soft and even. I raise an eyebrow and let my hands sit limply on the counter.

“What?” I ask. She shakes her head and leans across from me.

“Nothing. You just always sat there when we were kids,” she mutters, gesturing towards me. I’m sitting in the middle, and suddenly I feel all nostalgic.

I think back, back to when we probably couldn’t even see over this very counter, and laugh. I remember it like it had happened yesterday. I remembered sleepovers, where we huddled in our pillow fort and talked about aliens and monsters and anything else we found fascinating. I remember sitting in Historia’s room, listening to her shitty collection of bubblegum pop and thinking that things would never change.

Funny how we’re here now, isn’t it?

“Yeah,” I say, looking down at myself. “The middle’s a good place to be.”

“Yeah?” Historia murmurs.

“Of course. You’re not on the end. Not on any extreme side of the spectrum. Just perfectly balanced.”

Historia doesn’t say anything for a while. I stare at her, at the little frown on her lips, at the blonde hair that cascades over one of her shoulders. There’s something so familiar about her, something so safe and warm, that I almost want to pretend that this is just any other day. I want to pretend that the past few years haven’t happened.

That’s impossible. More than that, it’s just another lie, another one of my lame attempts at trying to act like everything’s fine and dandy. Maybe I’m just getting worse at lying. Or maybe the morally upstanding side of me really wants to be a better person.

“Why are you here, Eren?” Historia says. I suck in a breath and shrug, aiming at nonchalance.

“I was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

Historia looks at me critically. “That’s it?”

I raise my eyebrows. “What, was I not convincing enough or something?”

“No,” she replies. “Not even close.”

She leans forward and I sigh, shrugging again.

“Alright, you got me. I wanted to see you.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. I rub my arm and look over at the framed photos that line the mantle in the living room. “Look, Historia. I know I fucked up. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Historia shakes her head. “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“Uh…do you even _remember_ all the shit I said to you? I’m pretty sure that warrants an apology,” I answer, confused, and Historia chews on her lower lip.

“I already forgave you,” she says quietly. “I don’t think I ever was resentful of what you said, actually.”

“You should’ve been,” I reply. “I was _way_ out of line.”

“Well, yeah,” Historia says. “But you were also going through a shitty time.”

“You’re making excuses for me.”

“I’m not making excuses for you. I’m just recognizing that a lot of things were going on,” Historia insists firmly. She takes a deep breath. “I should be the one apologizing to you. I just gave up on you.”

“Don’t feel sorry,” I say numbly. “It’s kind of a familiar feeling.”

“Eren!”

“Shit, sorry,” I mutter. “Look, I don’t want an apology for you. I know things can’t go back to how they were before. I’m just grateful you’re even letting me talk to you right now.”

“I missed you…I _miss_ you,” Historia says then, all breathy and soft, and my heart seizes up tight enough to hurt. I try to swallow past the lump forming at the base of my throat and let her keep talking. “I wish I could take everything back. I really do.”

“I wish I could too,” I say, staring at my hands. “But I can’t, and I get that. But I want to make up with you. I missed you too, you know? I mean, _God_ , we’ve been friends for years.”

“I know,” Historia says. She reaches across the counter for my hand and I grab onto it hard. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain why I acted the way I did,” I say, and all of a sudden I’m feeling ridiculously emotional. “I can’t justify it. But I want you to know I’m _trying_. It sucks, and I hate it, but I _want_ to change.”

“I know you do,” Historia says, squeezing lightly onto my hand. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” I promise. “I swear, I _won’t_.”

Tears pool at the corners of her eyes and slowly trail down her cheeks. I don’t say anything else because I know Historia’s one of those people who just want to cry in peace. So I let her, gently rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb. She smiles gratefully and sniffles, hands shooting up to swipe the tears off of her face.

“Shit, sorry,” she says, laughing. “I don’t know why that got to me.”

I shrug. “It’s cool. I cry all the time, dude.”

“I know,” Historia says, smirking then. “God, you were _such_ a crybaby growing up.”

“Was not,” I mutter, but I can feel the heat flooding my cheeks. “I was just sensitive.”

“Yeah,” Historia agrees. “That’s what I always loved about you. Most people think you just do whatever the hell you want, but you’ve got a gigantic heart. You care so much about the people around you.”

I look at her then, a little lost for words, and smile softly.

“You’re like that too, you know. I always thought you were some kind of goddess.”

“Oh God,” Historia snorts. “I hate when people say that about me, you know? I’m not perfect or anything.”

“Pretty damn close to it, though,” I say, ignoring the skeptical look she gives me. “You put up with my ass for fucking _years_. Trust me, you’re a saint.”

“I wasn’t just putting up with you, Eren,” Historia replies. “I genuinely wanted to be around you. You were my best friend. You’ve always been.”

“You haven’t replaced me?” I say, a little touched and a little doubtful.

Historia snorts and reaches over to pinch my cheek. “C’mon, Eren. You’re irreplaceable.”

“You are too,” I say honestly. “I missed you like crazy, you know? It hurt like hell but I knew we needed space.”

“Yeah,” Historia murmurs. She straightens up and clears her throat. “So how have you been?”

I shrug. “The same, I guess.” I pause and look off to the side. “I…uh, started going to therapy again.”

“Really?” Historia asks. “When?”

“Not too long ago,” I reply. “Jean moved in and he’s kinda trying to fix me.”

“How is he?”

“I’ve never asked,” I admit, and saying the words makes me feel like absolute shit. “Kinda selfish, huh?

“No, it’s not,” Historia insists. I stare down at my hands again.

“I’m scared,” I say then, twiddling my thumbs. “It’s…hard for me to be honest. It sounds stupid now that I say it, but I’m fucking _terrified_. I want to change, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve gotten so used to doing all this stupid shit that I don’t know if I’ll be able to function without it.”

“I know you can,” Historia says. “You always do whatever you put your mind to. I believe in you.”

My breath leaves me in a harsh exhale when I take in the meaning of her words. I swallow roughly and grip onto the edge of the countertop.

“What about you?” I ask, because I’m sick of talking about myself. “How are _you_?”

“Okay,” Historia says, shrugging helplessly. “Same old same old, honestly. Nothing interesting.”

She looks at me curiously then, causing me to raise my eyebrows again. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just…really happy to see you.”

“I know,” I say, grinning. “I’m happy to see you too.”

I stick around for a while after that, talking about everything and nothing with Historia, and by the time I leave it’s nearly nine.

I stand on her porch, hands shoved into my pockets, and try to memorize every detail of her face. This entire situation feels like a dream, some concoction my brain came up with just to torture me. I dig my thumb into the side of my index finger, the slight pain reminding me that this is _real_.

“You should come by again,” Historia says, leaning against the doorframe. “Mom and Dad ask about you all the time. You’re like their son.”

“Yeah,” I say, suddenly feeling like shit all over again. “Tell them I’m sorry, okay?”

“Jesus, Eren. Stop apologizing,” she says, laughing, but there’s something in her eyes that I can’t quite place. She nudges me playfully and smiles softly. “Tell them yourself.”

“Right,” I say, snorting. “Thanks for hearing me out. I would’ve understood if you slammed the door in my face.”

“There’s no way I would've,” Historia says. “I just wish I would’ve said something to you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” I insist. “I’ll make it up to you, Historia. I swear.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but instead she presses her lips together and nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “I’m counting on that.”

I nod and take a step back. “I’m not gonna disappear again. Promise.”

“I know, Eren,” she says. “I trust you.”

* * *

2:47 pm, the day before winter break officially begins.

I don’t know where the time had gone. It feels like December had just started yesterday, but it’s not like I’m going to complain. Winter break means a break away from school. I’d be crazy to not appreciate it.

I stand outside of Mr. Smith’s room and think about the hundred and one excuses I’ve lined up. All of them sound like they won’t fly, and I know Mr. Smith hates bullshit anyway. I don’t know if it’s because of therapy or making up with Historia, but now I’m trying to desperately fix all the things I’ve fucked up. It might only be a matter of time before I mess up again, but I refuse to think of it. I’m willing to try. It’s all I can do at this point.

 Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab onto the door handle and pull.

Mr. Smith looks up quickly. I let the door click shut behind me and linger awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to say.

“Oh, Eren,” Mr. Smith says, standing to his feet. “Did you forget something?”

“It’s Thursday,” I say, my voice sounding all far-off, and I clear my throat.

Mr. Smith nods slowly. “You’re right, it is. Do you need something?”

“I figured I might as well take you up on your offer,” I say, attempting to sound casual. “I’m already at rock-bottom school-wise, aren’t I? This can’t possibly make anything worse.”

I grab onto the straps of my book bag hard and give Mr. Smith a level look. He looks a little surprised, but there’s something else in his expression that I can’t place.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he admits, and I try not to flinch. “I’m glad you’re here, Eren.”

“I thought you’d just let it go,” I say, eyeing a poster with a bunch of grammar shit on it. “I guess I was wrong.”

“I guess you were,” Mr. Smith says. He gestures to one of the empty desks. “Please, have a seat.”

I walk over to the desk closest to his desk and try not to feel like I’m walking the plank or something equally shitty. I drop myself down heavily and drum my fingers against the desk top.

“I’m proud of you, Eren,” Mr. Smith says, going through a few papers on his desk. I snort.

“I’m ten seconds away from flunking out of high school. I’m willing to bet I’m the shittiest student you’ve ever had. There’s nothing to be proud of there.”

“That may be true,” Mr. Smith says. “Not the part about you being the shittiest student I’ve ever had, though.”

I laugh at that, surprised to hear the word coming out of his mouth, and Mr. Smith grins.

“You swore first. We’re fair.”

“Right, sorry. Force of habit. I’m working on it.”

Mr. Smith rounds the desk and leans back against it, hands holding him up.

“What changed?” he asks after a few beats of silence have passed between us. I swallow hard.

“I’m kinda sick of disappointing people,” I admit, though the words taste like acid when I say them. “It’s time I got my act together.”

“I’m glad you are, Eren, but are you sure you’re okay?” Mr. Smith asks, actually looking concerned. “I’m sure you’re tired of being asked that, and I don’t mean to step on any toes here, but…I was genuinely worried about you.”

“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Shit—I mean, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I understand,” Mr. Smith says. “You have potential, Eren. I can see it. I’d have to be blind not to.”

“I think I kinda lost that,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “You could’ve focused you attention on someone else. Isabel really cares about this class, you know.”

“I know she does,” Mr. Smith says, laughing. “I know you’re capable of doing great things, Eren. Your circumstances haven’t really allowed for that, though.”

“Circumstances,” I repeat flatly. “Doesn’t that sound like an excuse?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Mr. Smith says. “Everyone deals with certain things in different ways. There’s nothing wrong with being human and going through the motions.”

I swallow hard and stare down at my hands. “People have gone through worse and done a hell of lot more than I have, though.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But it doesn’t really matter, Eren. You’re you, and you’re only doing what you think will help you in the long run. There’s something admirable about that.”

I look up, shocked, and can’t even think of a response.

“I was like you, at one time,” Mr. Smith continues, and I find myself furrowing my eyebrows.

“No way,” I say, unable to even imagine it. Mr. Smith’s probably the most straight-edge teacher I’ve ever had. A stickler for the rules and all of that jazz. “I can’t imagine it.”

“I’ve changed a lot,” Mr. Smith admits. “I lost my father at a young age. I didn’t know how to deal with the loss and figured I just wouldn’t. I did whatever it was that would make me forget he was gone in the first place.”

I flinch, unable to deny the parallel between our situations.

“It never worked, did it?” I ask numbly.

“No, it didn’t,” Mr. Smith says. “It was a miracle I graduated with the rest of my peers. I don’t think there was a single teacher in my school that thought I would do it. To be honest, I never thought I would either.”

“Is that why you’re trying to help me?” I ask.

Mr. Smith nods. “Doubt is a dangerous thing, Eren. Once others begin to doubt you, it’s only a matter of time before you do the same to yourself. People don’t grow under doubt and intense scrutiny. People need space to flourish and come into their own. If that means they have to stumble a few times to get there, so be it.”

“Thank you,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mr. Smith says. “I’m going to do everything in my power to help you. I know you can do it, Eren. I believe in you.”

I clear my throat softly and crack a wry grin. “So…where should we start?”

Mr. Smith grins and reaches for a stack of papers.

* * *

12:01 am, Christmas Day.

I stumble downstairs, stopping halfway when I see that Jean’s awake watching one of those Hallmark Christmas specials. I linger awkwardly, torn between returning back to my room or going into the kitchen to get my much desired bottle of water.

I decide on the latter. My footsteps sound obnoxiously loud in the silence of the house. I stop by the couch, my eyes raking over Jean’s profile. He doesn’t look away from the screen, but I know he can tell I’m staring at him.

“Merry Christmas,” I say, my voice gravelly from sleep.

Jean reaches over to the table and grabs the remote. He switches the television off and stands up.

“Come with me,” he says softly.

I raise an eyebrow but follow after him. I’m surprised when he leads me down to the basement, my heart pounding heavily in my ears. Mikasa always loved Christmas. It was pretty much the only holiday she gave a fuck about.

I stand at the bottom of the stairs and watch as Jean goes towards the back of the room, my heartbeat increasing when I remember it’s where I stashed my fucked up guitar.

Figuring I’m about to get a lecture, I brace myself for the screaming match I’m sure is about to ensue. I’m not ready for the brand new guitar Jean pulls out from behind Mikasa’s paintings. My breath gets caught in my throat as I look at it. The wood is a dark, almost black color that seems to gleam even under the shitty basement lighting. I stare at it for an unnecessarily long amount of time before I open my mouth.

“Wow,” I say. “Looks expensive.”

Jean twists it so that he can look at it. “It’s yours, Eren.”

I release a shaky breath. “I can’t.”

Jean walks over to me and holds it out. My fingers itch to wrap around the guitar, but I clench my hands into fists instead.

“C’mon.”

“I _can’t_ ,” I say again, my heart absolutely aching. “You…you shouldn’t have.”

“You deserve it,” Jean says. “I found your other guitar, you know.”

“I figured,” I say, chewing at the inside of my cheek. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have done this.”

“I wanted to,” Jean says quietly. “Mikasa…she, uh, actually picked this out. Once you started learning to play, I mean. The plan was to eventually get it for you.”

I feel nauseous, suddenly. I reach for the guitar before I can fully realize it. I wrap my fingers tightly around it.

“Fuck,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.

“I’ve been saving up,” Jean admits, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. “Merry Christmas, Eren.”

I grip the guitar harder. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jean asks.

I step back from him and look at the ground.

“Why do you bother sticking around?” I mutter, lifting my eyes to look at it. He just stares back at me silently. “Your wife’s dead. There’s nothing tying you to us anymore.”

“You’re wrong,” Jean says, shaking his head. “You’re my brother, Eren. I know Mikasa’s gone, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to leave. We’re still family.”

“Family,” I echo, and I’m not sure why that’s the word that breaks me.

“Family,” Jean says firmly. “I’m not going anywhere, Eren. You can count on that.”

I inhale deeply and look up at him again, my eyes feeling a little damp. Jean’s a multitude of things I can’t stand. Overbearing, _harsh_ , and God knows what else. But sometimes, I feel like he’s all I go. I know he’s hurting as much as I am. I know I should treat him a hell of a lot better than I do.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and it’s not a mindless phrase to get him off my back. I actually fucking _mean_ it. “I’m so sorry I’m such an asshole.”

“Don’t,” Jean says. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to understand you.”

I look at him then, finally feeling like we finally understand each other. Maybe it would’ve been better if it happened sooner, but I’ll take whatever I can get.

“I didn’t get you anything,” I mutter.

“It’s cool,” Jean says, shrugging. “Make it up to me next year, yeah?”

I snort. “Right. Thanks, seriously.”

Jean waves me off. “Don’t sweat it. I’m heading up to bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Got it,” I murmur, watching as he heads up.

I look at the guitar for a few more moments before I take it up to my room. Wide awake, I grab my phone from my nightstand and go back downstairs. I drop myself down onto the couch and scroll mindlessly through Facebook when I get a text notification.

**_Are you up?_ **

I read it, grinning when I see Levi’s name on the top of my screen.

**_Unfortunately. Merry Christmas, btw_ **

I reply and drum my fingers on my thigh as I wait.

**_Yeah…mind opening the door, then?_ **

“What?” I mutter to myself, standing to my feet. I walk over towards the door and yank it open, surprised to see Levi standing on the porch. He stares back at me, his eyes rimmed-red. “Holy shit, come in.”

I grab his arm and tug him inside. He stuffs his hands under his armpits and doesn’t look at me.

“Why didn’t you ring the doorbell, you moron?” I ask, shaking my head. “Jesus fucking Christ, Levi!”

“I’m eighteen,” he says, the words coming out in a rush, and I furrow my eyebrows.

“What?”

“I turned eighteen today,” Levi repeats, slower, and I stare at him.

_“I’m waiting until I turn eighteen. The second that happens, I’m getting the hell out of there.”_

“Levi…” I trail off, unsure of what to say, and he shakes his head.

“Come with me,” he says, sounding a little desperate.

“Where?” I ask, trying to think about where we could possibly be going.

“I don’t know, just somewhere,” he says, and I notice how heavy his breath is.

“Alright,” I agree before I can even think about it. “Lemme change and I’ll be right down.”

I go upstairs and throw on the first clean pair of jeans I find. I tug a sweatshirt on over my thin shirt and jog back downstairs, grabbing my coat and stuffing my feet into my boots.

“C’mon,” I say, reaching back for Levi’s hand. I wince when his icy fingers lace around mine.

I walk mindlessly, my mind racing, and before I know it we’re standing in front of the coffee shop Mikasa used to love. I inhale deeply and thank God it doesn’t close until two.

I pull Levi inside and lead him to one of the tables, an empty booth in the back, flashing one of the baristas a strained smile.

I push him softly and he Levi sits down and slumps over, cradling his head in his hands. I watch him silently, chewing on my lip, and drop myself down next to him.

“Levi?” I ask slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up, and I try to think if I’ve ever seen him look so broken before. “It’s Christmas, right? You probably want to be with your family.”

“You never told me when your birthday is,” I say, tilting my head to the side. “Christmas, huh?”

“I’ve heard a lot of shit about it,” he says quietly. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Levi,” I say softly. “Did…something happen?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“I said I’d leave, didn’t it?”

“You did,” I say. “Is…that what this is about?”

“I can’t even do anything,” he whispers. “There’s nowhere for me to go. Kenny’s all I fucking _have_.”

I sit there, waiting for him to continue, and he exhales heavily.

“My mom killed herself,” he says, and that’s the last damn thing I expect him to say.

“Levi…”

“I knew she wasn’t fine. But I told myself it wasn’t my responsibility to take care of her. I thought she’d figure it out. Next thing I knew, she downed half a bottle of pills and there was no way to save her.”

“Jesus Christ,” I say, sitting up straight.

“That was during the summer, right before senior year,” he continues, his voice subdued. “I couldn’t even come to terms with it before I was being shipped off to live with Kenny. It was great, the first two weeks, and then somehow he decided he’d feel better if he beat the shit out of me.”

I feel nauseous and grip onto the edge of the table. “Levi, I—”

“I thought I didn’t care for a while, you know. It’d be easy to leave. I’d turn eighteen and get the fuck out of there. But then…”

“Then what?”

“Then he gave me this tape,” he whispers. “My mom always liked recording shit. I guess she left it behind for me or something. And Kenny…said he was sorry.”

Anger boils inside of me.

“What, he thinks a fucking _sorry_ is gonna fix everything?” I hiss. “He fucking _abused_ you and you’re supposed to just forgive him?”

“That’s the fucked up thing, though,” Levi murmurs. “I _did_ forgive him. I don’t understand why he did all that shit to me. I never will. But…we’re not that fucking different, are we? We’re both still hurting.”

“Levi?”

“I wasn’t the only one who got abandoned,” he says. “My mom left Kenny too.”

“You can’t help him,” I whisper. “You shouldn’t! I get that you’re both grieving. But he _hurt_ you, Levi. You deserve better.”

Levi looks at me then. “Do you know why I showed up?”

“Tell me,” I say, my breath caught somewhere in my throat, and Levi laughs softly to himself.

“I don’t really have family,” he says softly. “My family’s not really good at sticking around. You’re…all I have.”

My heart clenches and I reach for him before I can think about it, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He clutches at my coat and presses his face into my shoulder.

“Please don’t go,” he says.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” I say, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I promise.”

“Good,” he whispers, leaning our foreheads together.

I bite my lip.

“My sister died in a car accident,” I say, my voice coming out strained, and Levi’s eyes widen.

“Eren, you don’t have to,” he says, and I shake my head.

“I want to,” I insist, and swallow hard. “Nick…uh, Nick was driving. I was at a party and asked her to pick me up. Some guy ran a red light and slammed into them.”

I pause, my breath coming out shaky, and Levi rubs his thumb in comforting circles on the back of my hand.

“It…was so fucking hard, you know? I didn’t know what to do. I knew Nick had a thing for Mikasa. I thought my life was over so we…slept together.”

Levi’s thumb goes still. I look at him, trying to see if he’s angry, but he just looks at me calmly.

“It happened more than once,” I continue cautiously, but Levi’s still silently. I shrug helplessly and lean back against the booth. “I didn’t love him or anything like that. I just wanted to forget.”

“The bruises…was that him?”

“I wanted it,” I remind Levi, but then I nod. “But yeah, it was.”

“Oh,” Levi says softly. He hasn’t let go of my hand yet, which I figure is a good sign.

“My point in telling you this is that I get it,” I say, my voice small. “I was dependent on Nick. I thought I wouldn’t be able to survive if he wasn’t around. I thought I needed him to keep living.”

“Do you?” Levi asks softly.

“No,” I say. “No, I never did. All I was doing was hurting myself. Hurting yourself…doesn’t get you anywhere. It doesn’t fix anything. It just creates more problems.”

I pause, trying to gauge his reaction. “Sometimes…you have to let go of the things that hurt you. It’s hard, especially when it’s the last thing you have of someone, but it’ll never _be_ that person. You can’t get your mom back and I can’t get my sister back. No one can replace them. Not even the people who remind us of them.”

“Fuck,” Levi says, shaking his head. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

I smirk, shrugging. “It’s a talent of mine.”

He snorts and leans back against the booth, mirroring my position. I stare at the lights above us, feeling oddly light, and swallow hard.

“Aren’t you mad or something?” I mutter.

“About Nick?” he asks, looking over at me. I nod.

“I mean, you got pretty pissed about the age thing.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he says. I sit up and look at him.

“But I lied about it,” I say, completely confused. “I knew you were worried about it, and I lied straight to your face.”

“Getting mad won’t change what happened,” Levi says, furrowing his eyebrows. “I understand why you did it. I get it. Even if I didn’t, it’s not like you owe me an explanation.”

I exhale heavily. “Well, look who’s fucking perfect _now_.”

Levi sniggers and tugs me down so he can plant a soft kiss to the corner of my lips.

“Thank you for staying,” he says, his fingers playing idly with the hair on my nape. I swallow thickly and kiss him back.

“Thank you for trusting me,” I reply, and he grins so wide that I swear my heart stops at the sight of it.


	28. Twenty-Eight: Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so weird to write these winter chapters when it's hot enough that I can feel a bit of myself melting away each day. Hope you guys enjoy anyway!

It’s two in the morning when Eren and I finally leave the café.

I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes hard, hard enough that little pinpricks of light explode beneath my closed eyelids. I exhale heavily, a mixture of frustration and confusion curling inside of me.

When my hands fall back to my side, Eren grabs one. He bites his lip and I watch him, taking in every detail of his face. He stares back at me evenly, his eyes a little wider and a lot greener than I remember them every being. The shitty streetlight doesn’t do him justice, I think to myself.

“What?” he asks, his face ruddy from the cold. He sniffles and raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into a half-smile.

Heat pools in my gut and claws its way to my chest, wrapping firmly around my heart. It hurts, but not the kind of pain where you want to tear your hair out. It feels like a shower that’s on the side of too warm, something comfortable and easy that I can find myself getting lost in.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Eren adds quickly, laughing to himself, and I smile before I can stop myself.

“Don’t tempt me.”

He rolls his eyes and nudges me gently with his shoulder. I lace our fingers together tighter, stroking against the back of his hand with my thumb. The words get stuck in my throat, and I swallow hard.

“Thanks,” I finally manage. I don’t bother to elaborate.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Eren says. He looks at me apprehensively then. “Are you going back home?”

“It’s two in the morning,” I say, snorting. “I kinda have to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I know,” I say, pulling him closer so I can kiss him on the cheek. He smiles widely and I get that warm feeling all over again. “I mean, we’ve got the entire winter break to see each other.”

“A whole day without you,” he says, sighing loudly. “How will I survive?”

“You’re so dramatic,” I say with a groan. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“No, not really.”

“At least you’re honest,” I say, glancing at him fondly.

We walk in silence in that. Halfway to Eren’s house, he begins swinging our hands. I laugh at his antics, some of my earlier frustration finally bleeding away. I watch him from the corner of my eye, unwilling to fully lose sight of him.

“I don’t want you to go,” Eren whines softly, and I look up and see that his house is mere feet away. “Dude, I could _totally_ sneak you up to my room.”

I snort. “Not tonight.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. “My parents aren’t home…”

“Liar,” I say, kissing him on his nose and chuckling when he wrinkles it.

He smirks crookedly at me, tilting his head to the side.

“Would you have said yes if it was true? Just for future reference.”

“I’ll let you answer that,” I say, pinching his nose playfully.

I let go of his hand, which seems to sober him up a bit. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“I feel better.”

“I mean later,” Eren says, his eyebrows furrowing. “Kenny’s not gonna…?”

“Nah,” I say, and I kind of believe it. “He’s not gonna do anything.”

Eren nods and crosses his arms.

“Call me when you get home. Or text me. You look like you’re gonna pass out,” he jokes. I roll my eyes.

“I’m not that tired,” I say, but as soon as I do I yawn. I curse my body for betraying me and ignore the smug look on Eren’s face. “I’ll shoot you a text.”

“Thought so,” he says. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and I sigh, frustrated.

“You’re _so_ doing that on purpose.”

“…Maybe.”

“I’m _leaving_ ,” I say, tugging him forward and kissing him soundly. He makes a noise of protest against my lips and I shake my head. “C’mon, don’t be a baby. We can even hang out tomorrow if that’ll make you happy.”

“I’m _your_ baby,” he says cheekily, winking, and I try to pretend I’m not affected by it. “And yes, that would make me very happy.”

“Great,” I say. “I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, Mom,” he says, saluting me and rolling his eyes. He grins again and starts up the driveway, turning to look at me every so often. “Get home safe! Don’t forget to text me!”

“Oh my God, I got it!” I say, my cheeks flushed. “Go to sleep, loser.”

He sticks his tongue out playfully but opens the door. I wait until it’s closed behind him before I make my way home, shoving my frozen fingers into my pocket. I zip my coat up all the way and bury the bottom half of my face into it, wishing I had a damn scarf or something.

When I get home, Kenny’s nowhere in sight. I kick my boots off at the door and hang my coat up in the closet before I trudge upstairs, falling backwards onto my bed. I wiggle my phone out of my pocket and shoot Eren a quick text.

_I’m home, sweetheart._

I grin to myself, knowing he’d appreciate my lame attempt at humor. His response comes back less than a second later.

**_Sweetheart?? I literally just threw up in my mouth a little bit. It’s not the 1950s anymore bro_ **

I roll my eyes at his reply.

_Ass._

**_You love my ass ;)_ **

_Um…no? GOODNIGHT._

**_:O Fine!! GOODNIGHT!_ **

I laugh to myself and slide my phone onto my nightstand. I’m tired and way too comfortable to really change, so I shuck my jeans off and call it a night. I fold my arms behind my head and stare ahead of myself, my head blissfully clear for once.

My eyes land on Mom’s video tape. I inhale sharply and roll onto my side, shutting my eyes and forcing myself to go to sleep.

* * *

“Happy birthday! And Merry Christmas. But more importantly, you’re legal now!”

“Oh my God,” I say, my voice all gravelly from sleep. Isabel doesn’t seem to care as she literally elbows her way past me into the hallway.

“This is for you,” Isabel says, handing me a wrapped box. “It’s from me and Farlan, but he’s MIA at the moment. Got called into work.”

“He has to work on Christmas?” I ask. Isabel nods, sighing sympathetically.

“The horrors of working retail,” she says, shaking her head. She claps her hands. “You gonna open it or what?”

“Jesus, wait a sec,” I say, but I tear into the wrapping paper and shake the box inside experimentally. “What is it?”

“I dunno, why don’t you try _opening_ it?” Isabel says, crossing her arms. I roll my eyes.

“I’m working on it,” I say, wiggling my finger underneath the strip of tape.

It rips easily. I yank it off fully and flip the lid of the box over. I fold back the tissue paper to reveal a slim, sleek wallet. The glossy black surface shines under the light of the hallway.

“Holy shit,” I say, reaching it to grab it. My name is engraved at the bottom. “This is…holy _shit_.”

“Your wallet’s seen better days,” Isabel says, snickering. I look away, embarrassed. I’ve been using the same wallet since eighth grade. It’s frayed at the edges and seconds away from falling apart, but it’s still functional. “Farlan said we should be subtle about it, but that’s not really how I roll.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I snort. “Seriously, though, thank you. This is awesome.”

She grins and reaches out for a hug that I give easily.

“No problem. Kinda hard to get something for the guy that has everything, but we managed,” she says, shrugging. “So? Got any plans for today?”

“Not really,” I admit. I swallow hard.

Isabel’s smile wavers the tiniest bit.

“Your mom would be proud,” she says, and I almost hate the fact that she’s still able to tell what I’m thinking. “Really.”

“I…”

“Oh, hello.”

I stiffen and don’t dare to turn. Isabel stands up a little straight, glancing behind my shoulder. I look at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She raises an eyebrow when we lock eyes, but I shake my head. She doesn’t know about Kenny, other than that he’s my uncle. That’s how I want it to stay.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Ackerman,” Isabel says easily. “I just dropped by to see Levi. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Kenny says, way too pleasantly, and I vaguely wonder how much he’s had to drink. “Levi doesn’t have his friends over very much. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You as well,” Isabel says. “Sorry if I’m intruding on anything.”

“It’s fine,” Kenny assures. He smiles genially at her. “You two have fun. I have to run a few errands.”

“Like what?” I ask before I can stop myself. I clear my throat and look away, something sour filling my mouth.

“I’ll be back by dinner,” Kenny says instead, and he steps past me and Isabel to leave the house.

I close the door after him and rest against it for a few minutes. Isabel coughs softly.

“I’m not gonna ask.”

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it. I lick my lips. “I, uh, I was actually gonna see my brother today.”

“Sammy, right?” Isabel asks. I nod. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You should meet him,” I say. “He’s a good kid. Kinda reminds me of you, at times. He’s a little hyper.”

“Are you saying I’m hyper?” Isabel asks, narrowing her eyes. I laugh.

“No, of course not. Are you up to it?”

“Of course,” she says softly. “It’s your day.”

I nod and grab my keys. I furrow my eyebrows when I notice Isabel’s car is nowhere in sight.

“Did you walk all that way?” I ask, whirling around to look at her. Isabel nods slowly.

“Yes…?”

“You should have called. I would have picked you up.”

“And ruin my surprise? Fat chance,” Isabel scoffs. She wiggles her fingers at me. “All in one piece, big bro. Stop worrying your pretty little head over it.”

I roll my eyes skyward and unlock my car. Isabel and I settle in and I jam the key into the ignition. I exhale softly and buckle in, waiting for Isabel to do the same before I pull out of the driveway.

“Nice car,” Isabel says, grinning.

I bite hard at the inside of my cheek. “Mom saved up to buy it for me.”

Isabel’s eyes soften. I shake my head.

“I didn’t really want to drive after she died,” I say. “Too painful, you know? But I got real sick of bumming rides from Reiner all the time.”

His name tastes bitter on my tongue. I find myself thinking of Bertolt. I haven’t really talked to him since that day at his house. I make a mental note to shoot him a text later or something.

“Levi…”

“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging. If Isabel notices how my hands tighten around the steering wheel, she doesn’t say anything.

We arrive at Sammy’s house. I park somewhere along the curb and reach into the backseat for his present. Isabel smiles at the sight.

“You’re such a softie,” she says fondly.

“Shut up,” I say without any true heat.

We walk up to the front door and I ring the doorbell. Isabel adjusts her hat and I stare at the unshoveled driveway while we wait. Olivia opens the door after a few minutes.

“Oh, Levi,” she says, before she glances quickly over at Isabel.

“Is Sammy home?” I ask. I shake his present for emphasis. “I got something for him.”

“Yes, he’s up,” she says. She looks at me sheepishly. “We were getting ready to head to my mother’s, actually.”

“Oh, this won’t take long,” I assure her.

Olivia nods and steps back. Isabel and I walk into the house and wipe our shoes off on the mat.

“This is my friend Isabel, by the way,” I say, gesturing towards Isabel. “Isabel, this is Olivia.”

“I’m his stepmother,” Olivia says.

“Was,” I correct, softly, and Isabel clears her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Isabel says.

Olivia gives her a tight smile before she disappears down the hallway to get Sammy.

“You okay?” Isabel asks quietly.

“I’m fine,” I say. She looks doubtful and I shake my head. “Honestly.”

“Alright.”

We fall silent when Sammy races down the stairs. I crouch down so that we’re level and ruffle his hair.

“Hey, kiddo,” I say.

He throws his arms around my neck and I hold him tight, closing my eyes and pressing my face against his tiny shoulder.

“Hey, I got you something,” I say, pulling back and holding his present up. “Merry Christmas, buddy.”

“Wow, really?” Sammy’s eyes go wide. He grabs the present eagerly and grins. “Thanks, Levi!”

He looks past my shoulder as Isabel.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asks bluntly.

I choke on my own saliva. Isabel makes a disgusted face.

“Don’t put that image in my head, kid,” she says. She leans down and pinches his cheek. “I’m just a friend. My name’s Isabel. What’s yours?”

“Samuel,” he says. He smiles. “You can call me Sammy, though.”

“Sammy,” Isabel says, as if she’s never heard of it before. She looks at me slyly. “Hope you don’t mind sharing Levi with me. He’s kind of my brother too.”

“Really?” Sammy says, and I roll my eyes.

“Figuratively,” I murmur, standing. “C’mon, kiddo. You gonna open it or what?”

Sammy tears into the wrapping paper, leaving little bits of paper behind. His eyes go wide as he looks at the game in his hands.

“Wow!” he says, his eyes wide. “This just came out! How did you even get it?!”

“Money,” I say, snickering as Sammy launches himself at me. “You like it?”

“Yeah!”

“I’m glad,” I say, ruffling his hair. I cast a glance at Olivia, who’s watching us silently. “Hey, why don’t you clean this up?”

“I’ll help,” Isabel offers, reaching for some of the wrapping paper.

Sammy and Isabel head to the kitchen. I tuck my hands into my pockets.

“You didn’t have to get him anything,” Olivia says. I shrug.

“Maybe not. But he’s my brother,” I say. “I gotta look out for him now.”

She nods and presses her lips together.

“I’m sorry about what I said that last time you were here,” she says, and my eyes widen. “I can’t imagine how difficult things must have been for you. Michael’s not the best guy out there. I figured that out now.”

I shrug again, my mouth painfully dry.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I say honestly. “I’m over it. Really.”

“I still feel horrible,” she says. She sighs softly. “I can’t say that I know much about you. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a good kid. Sammy likes having you around.”

“I’ll try to be around more, then,” I say. I rub the back of my neck. “Thank you for letting me see him.”

Olivia nods. Sammy and Isabel come back then.

“Well, we should get going,” I say. “I’m sure you guys want to get on the road.”

“Already?” Sammy asks, disappointed, and I nod.

“I know, kiddo. I’ll come back soon. Promise.”

Sammy nods, still looking a little put-out.

“It was nice seeing you again,” I say, looking at Olivia. She nods slowly.

“You too, Levi,” she says.

Isabel pats me on the shoulder as we leave. The door clicks shut behind us and I release a heavy breath.

“I was expecting the evil stepmother from Cinderella, honestly,” Isabel snorts. I laugh.

“Nah, Olivia’s not like that,” I say. It’s true. I’ve never bothered to get to know here, more out of bitterness towards my father than anything, but I can just feel it. She’s a good person.

“Hey, Levi,” Isabel says as we walk back to the car. I raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m sorry, too.”

I shake my head.

“Don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s get something to eat.”

Isabel smiles widely.

* * *

“Hey, man, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” I say, hugging Marco. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to take you out,” he says, punching me lightly on the shoulder. “I brought a special friend, too.”

“Special friend?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes. I stop when I notice Bertolt looming behind Marco, looking all kinds of awkward. “Oh. Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Bertolt nods. He smiles slowly. “How’s it feel being legal?”

“I don’t know,” I laugh. “You tell me.”

Marco pulls his face. “Never thought I’d be surrounded by old men on Christmas Day. Really, couldn’t you have picked a better day to be born?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, ignoring how Marco laughs loudly. “Seriously, where are we going?”

“ _Out_ ,” Marco says. “I actually invited _another_ special guest. But that’s a legitimate surprise, I’m afraid.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, because I don’t even want to begin to think of what that could mean. “Let’s go, then.”

Marco nods and pushes me along. I stare at my empty driveway as we do, wondering if Kenny will be home by the time I get back. It’s nearly nine and there’s no sight of him. I decide not to think of him and focus on my friends. Marco pushes me into the backseat of his car while he and Bertolt sit up front.

“It’s good to see you, you know,” Marco says to Bertolt. “You’ve been hiding, dude. I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yeah, well, I figured there was no reason to stick around,” Bertolt says. The implication behind his words makes me feel nauseous, but I shake it off. Not tonight. I’m not gonna think about that tonight.

Marco hums softly and switches the radio on. I rest my chin on my fist and look outside idly, my eyes never lingering on one spot for too long. Every house we pass has some kind of Christmas decoration up. I laugh at the countless amount of blow-up Santa’s we pass.

“Okay, serious question,” Marco says slowly. “Do you get Christmas presents _and_ birthday presents? Or only one?”

“Um…I don’t know,” I say, blinking slowly. I think back to last year, when Mom had stuffed a whole bunch of shit under the tree. “Both, I guess.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Marco says. “I’m lucky if I get a goddamn gift card.”

Bertolt snickers and I find myself grinning at the sound. The rest of the ride is spent with Marco cracking horribly hilarious Christmas jokes. He suddenly pulls over and claps his hands.

“Alright, Captain,” he says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Get ready to be amazed.”

I roll my eyes but get out of the car. I rub my hands together and look around us.

“Town square?” I ask.

“Work with me here,” Marco says, throwing an arm around my shoulder and bringing me forward.

I sigh but follow after him, Bertolt a few strides behind us. We stand in front of the giant, unlit Christmas tree. There’s a few other people there. The lighting of the Christmas tree has never been a huge thing. The only people who come religiously are old couples. Not that I really mind, of course. It’s just kind of sad.

“Hey,” someone says against my ear, their breath warm against my chilled skin.

I turn to see Eren’s grinning face.

“What happened to seeing you tomorrow?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

Eren snickers and points at Bertolt and Marco, who both look away quickly.

“Is it okay that you’re here?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “What about your family?”

“They were cool with it,” he says, sneakily entwining our arms. I look over at Marco and Bertolt, who do their best to avoid look at us. I smile softly. “I said it was a very special friend’s birthday.”

“A very special friend,” I repeat, snickering. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Alright, show’s starting,” Marco announces. I raise an eyebrow and look at the tree.

A man stands at the base of it, remote in hand. The old couples begin a countdown and I watch them, feeling the heat of Eren’s breath against my cheek.

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…!”

The tree bursts into a multitude of lights, a brilliant display of colors that leaves me nothing short of breathless. Marco and Eren cheer while Bertolt and I settle for quieter displays of joy.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Eren whispers.

I smile and pull him towards me, kissing him full on the mouth. I can hear Marco and Bertolt saying something from behind us, but I don’t even care. The warmth I’d felt earlier in the day is back in full force.

“God, I love you,” I say without thinking.

Eren’s eyes go wide, the tips of his ears turning red. I rest my hands on his waist, my breath feeling like it’s stuck in my throat.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, his voice hushed. “You love me?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” I say, kissing him again. “I love you.”

Eren laughs, soft and sweet, and loops his arms around my neck.

“I love you too,” he says.

I kiss him again, just because I can, and when we pull away Marco and Bertolt quickly look back up at the tree. I laugh and pull Marco towards me.

“Thanks, dude,” I say, gesturing towards the tree. “For bringing me here, I mean.”

“We figured it would be hard for you,” Bertolt says, and I know at once that he’s talking about Mom. “I hope this made you feel better.”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“It was Eren’s idea, by the way,” Marco adds quickly. “Originally he wasn’t part of this whole part, but we kinda insisted he come.”

“I didn’t want you to get sick of me,” Eren says, grinning. “You know, considering how I saw you this morning.”

“Sick of you?” I repeat, raising a brow. “Impossible.”

He rolls his eyes and bumps me gently with his hip. It’s close to ten, so we head to this little diner to get something to eat. We all crowd into one of the tiny booths and stare at the menus for a while.

“Hey,” I say, getting everyone’s attention. “Thanks. Really. This…was probably the best birthday ever.”

“You deserve it,” Eren says.

“You’ve been one of the best friends we could ask for,” Marco pipes up. Bertolt nods in agreement and I can’t stop myself from smiling. “We should be thanking you.”

We order our food and eat quietly once we get it. Marco clears his throat and looks at me.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you guys happy?”

“What?” Eren asks.

Marco glances between us quickly.

 _Ah_.

“We are,” I say, looking over at Eren.

“That’s all that matters, then,” Marco says. “You should’ve told me, you know.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I admit.

Eren snickers.

“He’s right, there’s not,” he says. “But yeah, it’s all good. We…uh, work well together.”

“Glad to hear it,” Bertolt says softly, and Eren grins.

We finish eating and pay our bill after that.

“Hey, we’re gonna head to the car,” Bertolt says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

He and Marco disappear, leaving me and Eren standing outside of the diner.

“Best birthday ever, huh?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say.

“I have something for you,” Eren says, biting his lip. “It’s…”

“Don’t you dare say dumb,” I say.

Eren shakes his head and reaches into his pocket. He drops something slightly cool into my hand and I stare at it, my eyebrows furrowed. It’s a shiny brass key, attached to a thin leather cord.

“What’s this?” I murmur. He wets his lips.

“My sister gave me this,” he says. “She said it was the key to her heart and that as long as I had this, her heart would always be mine and that she’d always love me.”

“Eren…” I whisper. “I can’t take this.”

He shakes his head again. “She told me that one day I’d find someone to give this to. So…I’m giving it to you. You have the key to my heart now. My heart is yours.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I say, at a loss for words and overcome with emotions.

“I’m sorry,” Eren says quickly, and I shake my head.

“Don’t apologize,” I say, reaching up and tying it around my neck. “It’s perfect. I love it. I love _you_.”

“I love you too,” he says warmly, and every inch of my body aches at that.

“You’re making me feel like shit, you know,” I murmur, holding him close. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“You’re more than enough for me,” he says. I swallow hard.

“Wait. I’ve got something.”

Eren looks at me curiously.

“What is it?” he asks.

I clear my throat softly. “Go on a date with me. I’ll pick you up, get you flowers, the whole nine yards.”

“Really?” Eren asks, snickering.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Let’s…let’s make this official.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yes,” I say. “Are you going to say yes?”

“Of course,” he says, kissing me firmly, and I feel like I can touch the sky. “Guess you’re not worried about your reputation, huh?”

“Fuck my reputation,” I say. “You’re the only thing that matters.”

Eren chuckles softly and I kiss him again.

“You should go,” he says, gesturing towards Marco’s car. “They probably want to see you.”

“They can wait.”

“ _Levi_.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, reluctantly stepping back. The necklace is a pleasant weight around my neck.

Eren laughs and waves at me. I turn around before I call out to him over my shoulder.

“I love you, Eren Jaeger,” I say, not giving a damn who hears me.

“I love you too, Levi Ackerman,” Eren says, his eyes sparkling, and it’s the best thing I’ve seen all goddamn day.

When I finally get to Marco’s car, they both have shit-eating grins on their faces.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Marco insists. “I’m just so honored to have witnessed such a tender and loving scene.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, but I can’t even stop myself from smiling.

Marco cackles and pulls away from the driveway. My eyes land on the Christmas tree as we pass, my entire body filled with warmth.

“Best birthday ever,” I murmur to myself, the words tasting sweet on my tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I have no idea when I'm going to end this fic lmao~~


	29. Twenty-Nine: Eren

10:48 pm, my house.

I’m exhausted, in an almost pleasant, warm way. I insert my key into the lock but don’t turn it. I just stand there, pressing my forehead against the cold door, and shut my eyes. There’s no heavy weight on my chest or my head or even my shoulders. It’s strange and unfamiliar, to feel so weightless, and a part of me wonders how long it’ll last.

I hope it never goes away.

I finally twist the doorknob and take my boots off by the door. I hang my jacket up almost mechanically before I begin to enter to the living room. The low murmur of the television greets me.

“Hey, Jean,” I say mindlessly.

When I peer over the edge of the couch, Mom looks back at me. Something heavy sinks down into my gut, something that makes me feel like I’m gonna be sick. I swallow hard and rub the back of my neck.

“Oh, sorry,” I say.

“Hi, honey,” Mom says. Her voice cracks and I notice that her eyes are all watery. My mouth feels horrendously dry. “Did you have a nice time with your friends?”

“Yeah, Mom,” I say. “I had fun.”

There’s a twitch in one of my calves, a reminder, a _need_ to get out of here. The image of my room that my brain provides me with feels like an escape, a sweet oasis. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be in it more than this very moment.

“It’s late, Mom,” I say. I want to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. “You should go to bed. You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Mom says. She reaches for a mug of something, probably coffee, and takes a few pointed sips. “Sit down, honey. Tell me about your day.”

There’s something strange about this. My mother hasn’t been this invested in my life since before Mikasa died. I linger behind the couch, anxiety crawling through my veins. I don’t know what she wants. I’ve been cleaning up my act. Not just so that everyone gets off my back, but because I really want to change. I don’t wanna be hurt anymore. I’ve been making progress. I’m _different_ now.

But maybe Mom doesn’t see that. Maybe I’m still the same asshole who sneaks out and drinks and sleeps around for the hell of it. Maybe I’m still flirting with danger because I like the way it feels. Maybe I still don’t care about anyone else but myself.

It’s not true. Not anymore, I mean. 

I sit down reluctantly. My brain screams at me that there’s something wrong, that I should leave right this very instant, but then Mom’s looking at me with this expectant look. She cares. She’s interested.

It’s more than I’ve gotten from her in a long time. I feel nauseous, even more so than before.

“It was fine,” I say, my tone flat. “We went into town. Saw the lighting of the Christmas tree. My…friend’s birthday is today.”

“Born on Christmas, huh?” she says. She smiles and laughs and I long to do the same. I don’t. “That’s nice.”

“Sure, I guess,” I mutter. The question boils under the surface of my skin and explodes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Mom, why are you doing this?”

“I want to know how you are,” she says. She says it like it should be obvious, like I shouldn’t even question her at the moment. She reaches for my hand and folds it within her warmer, softer ones. It feels foreign.

“Did something happen, Mom?” I press. I don’t want to sound like I’m accusing her of something, but I can’t help it. This is _weird_.

She’s quiet for far too long. I lick my dry lips and almost want to wiggle my hand out from hers. Then she shakes her head, the movement small and almost imperceptible.

“Jean talked to me,” she says. She sounds broken. “He told me a lot.”

“A lot?”

“Everything,” she clarifies. “About how he’s tried to help you, about Mina, about… _everything_.”

“He shouldn’t have,” I say, and it’s not because I’m angry at him or embarrassed. “Shouldn’t you have asked _me_?”

“Yes, I should have,” Mom says. It’s amazing how easily she’s agreeing with me. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have my son-in-law telling me what’s happening with _my_ child.”

“You’re right,” I say. Mom looks crestfallen. I look away so I can pretend I don’t see it. “But Mom, you stopped caring after Mikasa died.”

“I didn’t,” she says sharply. “I never stopped caring.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” I whisper. “You threw everything away. You never wanted to talk about it. You…you never asked me about how I felt. About how I was handling things. You let me do whatever I wanted to and then got angry just so you could pretend you still had some kind of control over me.”

“That’s not true,” Mom says. She’s not convincing anyone and she knows it. I know it.

“You and Dad checked out of reality,” I say. It’s not something I’ve dwelled on. I’ve accepted. I’ve accepted it the second my parents erased all traces of Mikasa. “You didn’t give a shit about anything anymore. You didn’t give a shit about _me_.”

I wait for her to say it’s not true, that I’m wrong and that never happened. But she doesn’t. I should feel victorious, now that I’m actually right about something. I don’t. I feel sick all the way down to my goddamn toes.

I yank my hand away from Mom’s and cross my arms tightly over my chest.

“You never tried,” I say. I’m not emotional. I ignore the tears trailing down Mom’s cheeks. “You never cared to try.”

I inhale sharply and shake my head. “But I can’t even fully blame you. I stopped caring too. I didn’t want to try either. I was selfish. You were selfish. We were all selfish.”

“You’re right,” Mom agrees again. Her voice shakes and something deep within me aches. “I don’t know what I can say to justify my actions. That’s probably because there isn’t anything I _can_ say. You deserved better. You’ve always deserved better.”

She picks at a loose thread on the throw blanket she’s covered with.

“I know an apology’s not enough,” she whispers. “But honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never stopped to think about you. I’m sorry I let you slip through my fingers. I don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s okay if you never do.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I say, leaning towards her. She cups my cheeks and I let her rest our foreheads together. My eyes are burning. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you, honey,” she says, pressing a kiss against my cheek.

I nod and squeeze my eyes shut. She wraps her arms around me and I press my face into her neck. I let myself memorize the feeling of her, the smell of her, _everything_. I try to pour my feelings into this hug, all of the thoughts I’ve kept locked up so tight that not even I have access to them.

“I love you, Mom,” I say. It’s easier to say the words, now. I never really told anyone I loved them. I just assumed people knew. Mikasa would always get on my case about it. She always said that it was better that people really knew than to leave them wondering. “Mom, I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says without missing a beat. I know she means it. I know things are going to change for the better.

I guess this is what healing feels like.

* * *

8:10 am, the kitchen.

I’m staring into a bowl of soggy Raisin Bran, questioning how something so disgusting even got into our cabinets. Jean, probably. I shake my head and swallow down another mouthful, my head turning towards the doorway when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

Jean lingers in the doorway and jerks his chin towards my bowl.

“Are you eating my cereal?”

“Someone ate mine,” I say, a little too defensive for eight in the morning. “Sorry. I’m hungry.”

“Then eat,” he says, snorting and shuffling towards the coffee pot. “Do we have creamer?”

“I didn’t check,” I say. “Maybe.”

He opens the fridge.

“No such luck,” he says mournfully. He leans against the counter as his coffee brews and looks at me with a soft expression. “I heard you talking to your mom.”

“I thought you were sleeping.”

Jean shrugs. “I don’t really get much sleep these days.”

The milk-saturated cereal suddenly feels really dry in my mouth. I imagine it tears my throat as I swallow it down.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks with a snort. I shrug.

“I don’t know,” I say. Silence falls between us and I drum my fingers lazily against the table. “Why did you tell her?”

“Someone had to,” Jean says. His coffee’s done by then, so he pours it into a mug and drops a heaping teaspoon of sugar into it before he settles into the seat in front of me. “Your parents needed a wake-up call.”

“Mom seemed genuine.”

“She’s not a bad person,” Jean says. “Neither of your parents are.”

“I know that.”

“Good,” he says, taking a slow sip. “I know it’s been hard on you. But things are changing.”

“It’s because of you,” I say. “We…we would’ve all fallen apart if you weren’t around.”

Jean’s eyes soften. “You seem happy.”

I’m taken aback by that.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Lighter, I guess. A couple months ago there would’ve been no way in hell we could’ve done this.”

“I know,” I say. “I just thought I didn’t need help.”

“I’m not blaming you. I understand.”

“How are you so patient?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I would’ve thrown in the towel if I was you.”

“I wasn’t always like this,” Jean admits, reaching up and scrubbing hard at the side of his face. “Mikasa helped me with that. She really grounded me, you know?”

“Yeah, she was good with that,” I say, chuckling. “Dad used to get so pissed. He thought she wasn’t taking things seriously. She was the most serious out of all of us, though. She just didn’t liked getting stressed out.”

“Yeah, she hated stress,” Jean says, nodding. “She’d get so keyed up she used to lock herself up in our room. She wouldn’t let me come in even if I sat outside and begged.”

He looks at me thoughtfully. I shift under his gaze, still cradling my spoon in my hand.

“You’re alike, you know,” he says. “Not entirely. There’s a lot of differences between you, but some things are so similar that it kind of hurts sometimes.”

I don’t know how to respond. I settle for shrugging and staring down at my bowl.

“She was my big sister, after all,” I say, my voice surprisingly even. “I wanted to be like her my entire life. She was perfect. It’s hard not to want to copy that.”

“You’re pretty amazing too, kiddo,” he says, frowning a bit. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

I look at him, furrowing my eyebrows. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

I nod slowly.

“Hey,” I say. “Thanks.”

Jean shakes his head and stands up.

“Stop thanking me,” he says. He goes to put his empty cup in the sink.

I stare at his back, watching as he rinses it out. My tongue feels too big for my mouth but I force my words out anyway.

“Are you happy?” I ask.

He returns to the table and sits down, his hands still wet and glistening with water.

“I’m getting there,” he admits. “It’s not easy. No one said it would be. I always thought two years would be enough time. I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s not like we could’ve prepared for it,” I say, licking my lips. “Nobody thought it would happen.”

“Do you still blame yourself?” Jean asks. I shrug.

“Sometimes. Mina’s helping with that, I think.”

I look at my hands and try to decide if I should even bring up Nick.

“He’s sorry,” I say, and I know I don’t have to clarify. “I know you don’t think so. I know you’re always going to blame him. But Nick’s in as much pain as we are.”

“You're always standing up for him,” Jean says softly. “I don’t blame him anymore, Eren. I don’t blame anyone now. I think I’m numb to it. Mikasa’s gone. That’s a fact and I’m doing my best to accept it.”

“He was my friend,” I say.

“Was?” Jean echoes. “Is there a story behind that?”

“He helped me,” I say, and it sounds strange. My stomach twists. I’m more nervous telling Jean than I had been telling Levi. As much as I’d like to deny it, I’ve always admired Jean in my own way. We’ve butted heads more than I’ve ever done so with anyone else in my life, but I know he’s always cared about me. “Well, not in a way that was healthy. But I didn’t really care about it being healthy. I just wanted to feel something. Anything, really.”

Jean looks at me carefully, his eyes narrowed. He’s not judging me, I know, but it’s still difficult to get my next words out.

“You can’t get mad at him,” I say, my voice soft. “We…broke things off.”

“You were together?” Jean asks. I can tell he’s trying to be calm, but his voice pitches up at the end.

“Sure,” I say hollowly. “We were together.”

“Did he…?”

“Force me? No,” I say. I shrug and pick at my nails. “We took advantage of each other. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what I was doing. I knew and I just didn’t care at all.”

“That’s dangerous,” Jean mutters. “Doing stuff like that…could’ve really fucked you up.”

“I’ve already been fucked up,” I say. “I’ve been fucked up since the doctor came out and said my sister was dead. Nothing could’ve made me worse. I mean, I already hit rock bottom.”

“How come you never told me?” Jean asks.

“Why would I?” I ask, shaking my head. “You already hated him. And you’re a _cop_. That doesn’t exactly spell out a happy ending, does it?”

“No,” he says. “But I could’ve helped you sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, shrugging. “I know it’s bad.”

“Bad doesn’t begin to cover it,” Jean says, twisting his mouth into a scowl. “Sex with a minor? There’re consequences. I’m not talking a slap on the wrist either. People go to _jail_ for that, Eren. It doesn’t matter if it was consensual or not. You’re a minor, a goddamn _child_ , and he—”

“I know, Jean,” I say softly. “I knew the risks when I got involved with him. I know Nick did too. But I wasn’t worried about the law. Neither of us were.”

“He should’ve known better.”

“I should’ve too.”

“Why are you putting the blame on yourself?” Jean asks, sitting straighter. “It wasn’t your fault!”

“I’m not telling you this because I’m expecting you to do something,” I say. “I don’t want you to get angry.”

“How am I not supposed to get angry?” he asks helplessly. “Please explain that to me, Eren.”

“I’m telling you because I’m tired of not being honest,” I say, pushing my bowl away from me. I cross my arms over my chest out of comfort. “It’s hard. Keeping things from everyone, I mean. Pretending like I’m okay. Acting like nothing’s out of the ordinary. It’s exhausting to keep up an appearance all the time.”

“I wish you would’ve been comfortable enough to come to me,” Jean says. “I’ve only ever wanted to best for you. I don’t care what anyone says. You’re my _brother_.”

“I know,” I say. “I know, Jean. It wasn’t about you. It was all me. Really. I couldn’t handle myself and things just spiraled out of control. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Maybe I was too harsh,” Jean murmurs. “Maybe I should’ve given you more space, trusted you.”

“I would’ve done exactly what you did if the tables were flipped,” I say, shrugging. “You did the right thing. I was just really ungrateful.”

“Everyone deals with grief differently, right?” he asks. He clasps his hands and raises them to his face, bowing his head. I watch him silently, digging my fingers into my arm.

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he says. He presses back against the char. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I’m getting there.”

Silence falls between us again and I uncross my arms.

“Who is she?” I ask.

“Who?” Jean mumbles, sounding tired.

“The girl you went on a date with,” I say softly. “What’s her name?”

“I never ended up going on that date,” Jean says.

“Why not?”

“You were upset about it,” he says carefully. I raise my eyebrows.

“You shouldn’t let me stop you.”

“I didn’t want it to seem like I was disrespecting your sister,” Jean says, and it occurs to me right then and there that he’s a better person than I’ll ever be.

“You wouldn’t have been,” I say. “You’re allowed to move on. I was being irrational.”

“I get why you got upset,” Jean assures me. I still feel like shit.

“I was being really immature.”

“Nah,” Jean replies softly. “Just…worried.”

“Yeah,” I say, because that’s exactly what I’d felt. “I was worried.”

Jean inhales sharply and looks at me.

“Her name’s Hitch,” he says. “She’s an officer too, just from another precinct. I met her after our precinct celebrated the captain’s birthday. I used to hate her guts, actually.”

“Why?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

“She’s cocky,” Jean says. “A lot like me, just a woman. Kinda weird to hate that, I guess. We didn’t exactly hit it off but her friend was nice. I can’t remember his name for the life of me.”

“Is she good to you?” I ask.

“She’s not the love my life,” Jean mumbles. “But she’s sweet, when she wants to be. She’s the complete opposite of Mikasa. But…I like her.”

“Then you should be with her.”

“It’s not that black and white,” Jean says, sounding amused, and I wonder if I should tell him that I know that better than anyone. Feelings are a complicated mess. “It feels wrong.”

“Stop,” I say firmly. “You deserve this. You deserve her.”

“She’s not Mikasa.”

“No one will ever be Mikasa,” I whisper. “But that’s okay. She…doesn’t have to be.”

Jean sinks down into his seat, narrowing his eyes. I raise my eyebrows.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How the hell did you get so wise?” he asks, leaning forward. He sounds a little amazed and I’m not sure how to respond. “You sound so freaking mature.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re growing up on me, huh?”

“God, don’t get all sappy,” I mutter, grabbing my bowl and walking to the kitchen.

I pour the remainder of my milk down the drain and rinse my bowl off. I turn around and lean against the counter. Jean twists in his seat and looks at me, one arm hanging off the back of his chair.

“You should make it up to her,” I say. “Take her out. Make it really nice, you know?”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s not a lie. It’s refreshing to finally be honest with everyone around me. “Seriously.”

“Alright, Eren,” Jean says. “I’ll think about it.”

He grabs the dish towel laying on the table and wipes it half-heartedly. As I begin to pass him, he snaps it at the back of my neck.

“Hey!”

“I’m proud of you,” he says. “I’ll always be proud of you. Got that, kid?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, just to see him grin.

* * *

7:14 pm, my house.

I’m freshly showered and dressed in a tee-shirt and basketball shorts. The doorbell rings and I consider passing the buck to jean. I sigh softly and pad over to it, grabbing onto the doorknob and pulling.

A bouquet of white roses is promptly shoved into my face. I stare at it for a few seconds.

“What the hell?”

A head pops out from the side. My eyes zero in on the wide grin on Levi’s face, my eyebrows raising before I can stop it.

“What are you doing?”

“Surprise,” he says, though he doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as I expected. “I’m taking you out.”

“Taking me out?”

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

“I’m—” I stop and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are you serious right now? Is this real?”

“I’ll pinch you.”

“I’ll pass,” I say, reaching for the bouquet. “What is this all about?”

“I said I was gonna get you flowers.”

“I didn’t think you were serious,” I admit.

Levi rubs the back of his neck.

“I, uh, wanted to do this right. You know, first date and all.”

“It’s fine,” I say, looking down at the flowers. “These are nice.”

“I don’t know anything about flowers."

“Neither do I,” I say, smiling sympathetically at him. “Honestly, I don’t really know if this means something.”

“Lady at the shop mentioned something about pure love or whatever,” Levi mutters, mostly to himself, and I bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing. “I thought it was cute.”

“It is cute,” I assure him, going in for a kiss, but he moves his head back. I narrow my eyes. “I brushed my teeth.”

“No kissing until after the date,” he says, smirking. “We’re doing this the traditional way, Jaeger.”

“Loser,” I say affectionately. “I’m gonna put these away and get changed.”

“Cool,” Levi says, rubbing his hands onto his jeans. I decide not to question it. “I’ll just be…here.”

“Alright, Blondie,” I say, grinning when he rolls his eyes at the nickname.

I find a vase in the kitchen and drop the flowers into it with some water before I head upstairs to change, smirking at Levi when I pass.

“Hey, who’s downstairs?” Jean asks, poking his head out of the bathroom. He’s got his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“My…uh, date,” I say slowly.

His eyes go wide.

“Date?”

“What, are you the only one allowed to go on dates?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Stop talking to me. I gotta get changed.”

“I’m gonna talk to them.”

“Um…no. Go brush your teeth,” I say, shoving at him before I head to my room.

Deciding on what to wear takes a little longer than I anticipated. What do people even wear when they go on dates? Does it really matter? He’s seen me drunk at this point. Nothing could possibly be worse than _that_.

I settle on a green dress shirt I didn’t realize I had and some dark-wash jeans that look kinda new. I put some gel in my hair and run my fingers through it a few times before I spritz on some cologne my dad had gotten me for Christmas.

I leave my room and roll my shirt sleeves up to elbows. As I walk downstairs, I can hear Jean’s voice.

“Oh fuck,” I mutter to myself, walking faster.

Levi’s sitting on the couch. The smile he gives me is nothing short of strained. Jean tilts his head and looks at him closely.

“I’ve met you before,” he says. “You’re Eren’s friend, right?”

“Boyfriend,” I correct, shocking myself with how easily the word tumbles out of my mouth.

Jean twists around to look at me. His eyes dart between Levi and I before he nods.

“I see. I can skip the speech about curfew and bringing Eren home in one piece, then,” he says, standing up and walking towards me. “Have fun.”

“Thanks,” I say softly.

Jean climbs the stairs and I jerk my head towards the door. Levi follows after me, shaking his head.

“What’d he say?” I ask.

“Nothing. He told me to sit down and then just stared at me.”

“Stared?” I repeat, putting my sneakers on and lacing them up. I grab my coat and put it on, zipping it up to my neck. “You’re joking.”

“Somehow it was worse than the cliché speech I had prepared in my head,” he admits. “Seriously, I had my responses planned out and everything.”

“Guess someone didn’t stick to the script,” I say, snagging his ear between my fingers just to see him roll his eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“Shut up,” he says.

We step outside and he clears his throat softly.

“It’s a little far, but we can walk. Might take a little longer, but it’ll be okay.”

Levi starts to step down the stairs, but I grab onto his elbow and stop him.

“We can drive,” I say, and I’m proud of how my voice only shakes a little bit.

Levi’s eyes widen. “Eren, we don’t have to. I respect how you feel about—”

“No, it’s okay,” I assure him, even as anxiety curls in my gut. “I trust you.”

Levi presses his lips together.

“If you feel uncomfortable, tell me. I’ll pull over. I swear.”

“I know you will,” I say. I jerk my chin towards his car. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He nods slowly and walks down the driveway. I follow after him, snuggling my face into my scarf. I stand on the passenger side of his car and look at him.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” I reply.

I grab onto the door handle and pull. I sit down and lean back against the seat.

“Seat belt,” he says when I don’t move.

“Right, got it.”

I reach for it and buckle it, fumbling a few times. Levi adjusts the heater and makes sure that the vents are facing me. I take a deep breath.

“I’m not scared.”

“I know,” he says evenly, but after he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb he rests his hand on my thigh.

I slide my hand on top of his and curl our fingers together. My heart is racing and I try my best to keep my breathing even and steady.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” I say. My teeth are grinding together and I close my eyes.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I trust you.”

After a while, I find that I don’t have to hold his hand as tight. Even though I’m a lot more relaxed, Levi doesn’t pull his hand away. I rub my thumb in circles on the back of it and look out of the corner of my eye to see him grinning.

“Where are we going, by the way?” I ask.

“Somewhere.”

“Wow. Very descriptive.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” he reminds me, causing me to roll my eyes.

“I’m gonna find out either way. What’s the difference between now and later?”

“Later is what I’m shooting for,” he says, snorting. “Just sit there and don’t say anything.”

“Wow, nothing at all?” I mumble. Levi narrows his eyes.

“You’re speaking.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I try.”

I try not to laugh at that and focus on the scenery around us. I really have no idea where we’re going. We’re still in Shiganshina, and that’s about the extent of my knowledge. I don’t know how long we’ve been driving when Levi pulls over and puts the car into park.

“We’re here?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I parked.”

“I don’t like it when you sass me,” I say, unbuckling myself and getting out of the car.

“Don’t give me that. I let you sass me for _months_.”

I smirk and round the car so we’re standing next to each other.

“Is this your revenge?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. He snickers.

“Of course. How could it be anything else?”

I roll my eyes. “So where exactly are we going?”

“Ah. C’mon.”

I follow after Levi into the rather inconspicuous building. Nothing really stands out at me, and I find myself furrowing my eyebrows. Where the hell _are_ we?

We enter the building and are instantly surrounded by almost oppressive heart. I wrinkle my nose and follow Levi up to the counter.

“How many?” the woman asks.

“Uh, two,” Levi says, scratching the back of his neck. I raise an eyebrow.

“What are you so nervous about?”

“What? I’m not nervous,” he says, far too quickly to be believable.

I hum and look at the woman.

“What size?” she asks.

“Size?”

“Shoe size,” Levi says.

“Eight and a half,” I say slowly. The woman nods and hands me a pair of ice skates.

 _Oh_.

Levi gets his and then jerks his head towards another set of doors.

“It’s this way,” he says, smiling, and I follow after him breathlessly.

We push open the doors and find ourselves back outside. There are a few other people on the ice, but not many. I swallow hard and look over at him, away from the delicately fairy lights strung around the rink.

“Wow.”

“Don’t tell me you hate it,” he says, his eyes wide, and I shake my head.

“Of course not. I’m just…surprised.”

“I don’t know how to skate,” Levi admits, tying the skates on. I snicker.

“Neither do I.”

“Great. We’ll learn together.”

He stands up and holds his hand out to me. I stare at it for a few seconds, something warm curling in the pt of my stomach.

“Coming?” he asks.

“Hell yeah,” I say with a grin.

He leads us onto the ice. I suck in a heavy breath and try my best to stay balanced, but my foot slides and we end up falling on our asses.

“Fuck!”

“I’ve been through worse,” Levi says, smirking. “Captain of the football team, remember?”

“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes and getting back to my feet.

We fall no less than a dozen more times before we’re finally able to stand kind of straight. It takes me a moment to realize that we haven’t let go of each other’s hands, but it’s not like I want to.

“Wanna hear something funny?” Levi asks as we slide along the edge slowly.

“Hm, what?” I reply, most of my focus on not making us fall _again_.

“I’ve never taken anyone on a date before,” he says, his voice almost too soft to be heard. “And I mean _never_. I didn’t even know what to do. I literally Googled ideas.”

“Are you serious?” I ask. I feel Levi’s eyes on the back of my head as I lead us along. “Well…you wanna hear something funny?”

“What?” he asks.

“I’ve never been on a date before either,” I admit. “You’re my first.”

“Yeah?” Levi says, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

I smirk. “Yeah. I don’t think any date could match up to this.”

“Why?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. I manage a shrug.

“We could’ve done anything,” I say. “Really, I wouldn’t have cared. Just being with you is enough. But…you planned this out. It’s…nice. Really nice.”

“I’m glad,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Now c’mon. Go faster.”

I throw my head back and laugh, pushing off of the wall to give us more speed. Levi tangles our fingers together firmly and I let myself get lost in the feeling. There’s no one here but me and him.

It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.


	30. Thirty: Levi

“Have you talked to Reiner recently?”

I fumble with the controller in my hands. It goes crashing down onto Marco’s floor in a flash of white and grey. I stare at it, dumbfounded, and feel the weight of Marco’s eyes resting on the side of my face. I reach for the controller and set it back onto my lap, considering the question.

Winter break had passed in a blur. I attempted to divide my time between my friends equally, though I’m more than aware that I spent most of my time with Eren. I wasn’t really at home much, though I’m sure Kenny probably didn’t even notice. This time last year, I was all alone. It’s a strange contrast, but I’m not complaining.

All throughout the break, though, it hadn’t even occurred to me to talk to Reiner. I thought about him every time I saw Bertolt, but I didn’t have this pressing need to fix things. In fact, I hadn’t even considered it. Bertolt and Marco are the only guys I talk to from the team. The others had chosen Reiner’s side after the whole argument at our last team party, but I’m not too torn-up about it. I always thought Reiner would’ve made a better captain than me. He’s more personable, more popular.

It takes me a few moments to realize that Marco’s still waiting for me to answer. I clear my throat and shake my head, ignoring how Marco’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

“Really?”

“I don’t have much to say,” I reply evenly. I reach down and pick at a loose thread along the hem of my jeans. “I said everything I had to at the party.”

Marco gives me a long, searching glance. “Is it because of Bertolt?”

“Partly,” I admit. I shrug helplessly. “Mostly it’s because he pisses me off and I’m tired about it.”

“And Eren?”

I press my lips into a thin line. It’s enough of an answer for Marco. He shakes his head softly and drums his fingers against his bedding. I watch the movement of his fingers so I don’t have to look at his face.

“Maybe you _should_ talk to him. I mean, you made up with me and Bertolt.”

I grind my teeth together hard enough to hurt. Marco’s words feel like a heavy, oppressive weight has been dropped onto my shoulders. I chew at my lower lip and shrug again.

“Maybe I will.”

“I’m not saying you have to,” Marco adds quickly, like he thinks he’s telling me what to do. “It just seems like you’ve got a lot against him. Maybe it would be good to just talk to him about it, you know?”

“Sure,” I say. I run my fingers over the controller’s smooth buttons. “I’ll think about it.”

I’m not sure if I really will. But I can’t help but to think that Marco’s making a lot of sense right now. Bitterly, I think this is just another instance of him being all right and perfect again. But I brush the thought aside quickly. Even though I haven’t exactly thought about it, the whole Reiner situation _does_ bother me.

After a few more hours of hanging around with Marco, I decide to head home. I sit in my car for a while, just staring out of the windshield. There’s a tiny crack on it from when a rock had flown up and hit it. I don’t remember if I ever saw it before.

My phone is pressing down insistently into my thigh. I sigh softly and dig it out of my pocket. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I unlock it quickly and scroll down to Eren’s number. I press down onto the call button and rest my forehead against the steering wheel.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” I say softly. Eren snorts softly on the other end of the line.

“What’s up, Blondie?” he asks. I scoff.

“You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“I kinda like it, you know?”

“Right, whatever,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “What’re you doing?”

“Homework,” he replies flatly. “Calculus, to be exact. What asshole invented it, by the way? I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

“He’s dead.”

“I’d bring him back just to kill him.”

I roll my eyes skyward but smile to myself. I make myself settle in my seat, leaning my head back against the headrest. It’s solid and comforting beneath me. I let my eyes slip shut and release a heavy breath.

“Whoa, what’s that for?”

“What?” I mutter.

“Did something happen?” Eren asks. He sounds worried, and I feel like a rock has been dropped into my gut.

“No, nothing happened,” I say, quick to assure him. I listen to him release his own relieved breath and try to think of the best way to proceed with this conversation. “It’s just…I hung out with Marco today.”

“Don’t tell me the literal incarnate of Jesus did something.”

“What? No,” I say. “It’s nothing like that. We were just talking and…well, he came up with a pretty valid point.”

“Which was…?”

“He said I should probably talk to Reiner,” I say in a quick rush. The seconds tick by and I realize then that Eren isn’t responding. “I made up with both him and Bertolt. Marco thinks it’ll be better for me if I just tell Reiner how I feel about him. Face to face. Without other people around.”

Eren hums quietly. I listen to the sound, letting it roll around inside my head for a few seconds until he speaks.

“Do you want to?”

“Talk to Reiner?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” I confess. “I think Marco’s right.”

“He usually is,” Eren says. There’s a certain edge to his voice that I can’t pick up on. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, Levi. Reiner and I have… _issues_ , but that’s between me and him. What’s _your_ beef with him?”

I think about it. My usual answer is that he’s a dick. But there’s more to that, isn’t it?

“I…don’t know.”

“There’s your answer,” Eren says softly. “Hey, I should go. This homework isn’t going to do itself.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” he says, laughing. It sounds strangely forced. I swallow hard around the bitter taste flooding my mouth. “Hey, I love you.”

“Yeah. Love you, too.”

I hang up and turn my phone over between my hands, letting the weight rest firmly in my palms. The weight from before feels even heavier, but I know what I have to do.

I turn my keys in the ignition and put the car into gear.

* * *

Reiner’s house looks the same as ever. There’s a string of multicolored Christmas lights strung up on the roof. I try to imagine Reiner standing on a ladder putting them up, but I honestly can’t. It had probably been his mom. Sweet lady. Overworked as hell, but always manages to put a smile on her face. A shame her son didn’t inherit any of her personality, but I guess we’re not all meant to be good people.

I inhale sharply and trudge towards the front door. Reiner’s house looms over me. My chest feels like it’s about to cave in, but I lift a hand up to the door anyway. I don’t knock, not yet, and I feel myself starting to lose my resolve. It would be easy to just turn around and not look back. It’s nearly January now, right? Five more months until I graduate and leave Shiganshina behind. There won’t be any need to fix things with Reiner if I’m nowhere around him for the rest of my life.

My fist slams down against the door, harder than I intended. I recoil away from it, pain blooming from my knuckles and up my hand, and stare at the neighbor’s lawn. They’ve got those tacky blow-up snowmen lining one side of their driveway. I’ve always hated those.

I’m saved from looking at them when Reiner’s door swings open. I’m grateful that his mom isn’t home. God knows what I’d do if she had opened it. I probably would’ve said some bullshit about wishing her a happy holiday and booked it out of here.

But she’s not here, and Reiner’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. I guess I am. I’ve never felt uncomfortable in his house, but things are different now. I’m still trying to figure out if that’s for the best or not.

“Hey,” I say simply. I don’t bother to explain why I’m here. Not yet, anyway. I’ll save that for when I’m sure Reiner’s not going to bullshit me. “What’s up?”

Reiner gapes at me. The look he gives me makes me shift my weight awkwardly from foot to foot. I almost want to smile, but I can’t quite force the expression onto my face. I don’t know how Eren managed to do it so much. That shit’s fucking hard.

“Levi,” he finally gets out. He sounds like he’s being choked. I wince at the sound and gaze past him into the house. No sign of Mama Braun.

“Do you mind if I come in?” I ask, gesturing to the door. “Feel free to say no.”

“Uh.” Reiner blinks, slow and even. “Sure, man. Come in.”

I step inside and wipe my feet on the mat in front of the door. I don’t take my shoes off, but I unwrap my scarf from around my neck and unzip my coat. Reiner’s house is nearly uncomfortably hot, and I when I look at the roaring fire in his fireplace I realize why.

I step around him and make a bee-line for the couch. It feels oddly hard beneath me. I never used to think it was uncomfortable before. Reiner takes the armchair across from me and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. I have his full attention.

“You look good,” I say, as if I haven’t seen him in months. It kind of feels like that.

Reiner reaches up and scrubs at his face hard. I watch as his skin pinches together and rolls under his hands.

“Why are you here?” It sounds vaguely like an accusation. Something heavy settles in the pit of my stomach, but I ignore the weight of it.

“Marco thought we should talk,” I say. I don’t mean to bring Marco into this. Not really. I just want to make it abundantly clear that I’m not here out of the goodness of my own heart. “He said I owe you an explanation for the way I acted at the team party.”

“What _was_ that?” Reiner says, quick and to the point. I wonder if he’s been running the question through his head for these past few weeks, wondering how to say it in the most effective way possible. Maybe he has. Or maybe he’s just pissed. I can’t tell.

“Honesty,” I say. “But you wouldn’t know what that’s all about, right?”

Reiner narrows his eyes. I make a mental note to myself to lay back on the hostility. I’m not here to fight with Reiner. I’m not here to confront him about anything. I just want to say what I have to and get the hell out of here.

“I thought we were okay,” Reiner says. “I can’t remember ever having a problem with you, dude.”

I shrug. “You’re right. We were okay.”

“ _Were_ ,” Reiner echoes flatly. “What changed?”

“I did,” I say. I rub my damp palms against my jeans and curl them into fists on my knees. “I meant what I said.”

“So that’s it? You’re over the team just like that?” Reiner says, snapping for emphasis. I clench my jaw and look away. The TV’s on mute. There’s a commercial for Cheetos on screen. I watch it with vague interest.

“Not the team,” I correct him. “Just all the dumb shit.”

“What about me?”

“What _about_ you?” I say, ignoring how Reiner flinches back like I’ve slapped him. I stand up because there’s a twitch in my calves and begin pacing. “You treat everyone like shit because you can. None of those people deserve what you did to them, and yet you sit on your high horse like you’ve never done anything wrong. It makes me fucking sick, man.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about Jaeger,” Reiner says, sounding irritated that I would even bring him up. “Who is he to you, anyway?”

“My boyfriend.”

Reiner cracks a grin like he thinks I’m joking. I don’t say anything to dispute that. I let him realize I’m dead serious all on his own. He stares at me, slack-jawed for the second time since I’ve shown up.

“You’re not gay.”

“Got a problem with it?” I bite back.

“You’ve been with him this whole time?” Reiner asks, stretching his arms out in front of him. “What the fuck, man?”

I stop pacing and stare at him, feeling both everything and nothing at all.

“Not until recently, no. But that doesn’t matter. You treated him like shit.”

“And you didn’t?”

His words cut deep. For a few seconds, it feels like there’s a knife buried in my gut. I repeat Reiner’s words to myself a couple times. The knife gets twisted around. My mouth feels painfully dry.

“You’re right,” I say, because this is the one fucking time he is. “I was. I was a goddamn asshole and I’m ashamed of it. But you? You’ve probably never thought twice about it.”

I pause, waiting for him to react. Reiner just stares back at me coolly. I know his defenses are way up, but I keep talking anyway.

“But you didn’t just mess with Eren’s life. No, you just _had_ to go and fuck up Bertolt’s too. How do you feel about that, by the way?”

I’m not sure why the words spill out so easily. I’ve never considered myself to be a particularly vindictive person. But the absolute truth is that I’m pissed beyond belief. Reiner may not have done anything to directly hurt me. But he hurt the people I care about. There’s no way in hell I can ignore _that_.

Reiner narrows his eyes sharply. His hands clench into fists on the armrests of his chair, but I’m not intimidated. I’m not saying anything wrong. Judging by his reaction, Reiner seems to know that.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you took advantage of him and never thought twice about it,” I say, staring down at him and feeling incredibly nauseous as I do. “I know he quit the team because he couldn’t bear to look at your face every day.”

Reiner laughs bitterly. “You’re acting awfully high and mighty right now, dude. You act like you’ve never taken advantage of someone.”

“I’ve never raped anyone.”

“I didn’t rape Bertolt.” He pauses and looks at me with an expression I can’t place. “He told you that?”

“Of course he did. I believe him.”

Reiner leans forward in his seat. It creaks heavily beneath his weight. I watch him warily, unsure of what he plans to do. He ends up closing his eyes and hanging his head.

“I was drunk. I don’t remember that night.”

“That’s not an excuse,” I say. I think of Kenny, suddenly, and I have to physically force myself to push all thoughts of my uncle away. “You never took responsibility for it. Do you even realize how fucked up that is?”

I rake my fingers through my hair and take a few deep, calming breaths. Reiner shakes his head a few times. I watch the movement, dizzy in mere seconds.

“I never did anything to _you_.” It’s a deflection. I’m not so easily distracted.

“You’ve hurt people I care about,” I say, my voice surprisingly soft. I clear my throat. “You know why I said all that shit? Because it’s what I really thought. I hated being on that fucking team. I pushed away the people who actually cared about me just because I wanted to fit into some stupid role.”

“You’re the one who sprouted that shit about the team not being disposable. Or did you not mean that?”

“Of course I meant it,” I say, sitting down hard on the couch. I fold my arms tightly over my chest. “But I knew that team wasn’t helping me any. I didn’t like who I was when I was on it. I didn’t like who I was when I partied or did anything with you guys. It changed me, and not for the better.”

Reiner snorts loudly. “What are you saying, then? That I was a bad influence on you?”

“Yeah,” I say, smirking. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I left that party because I didn’t want to see myself become like you.”

Reiner flinches. I think to myself that maybe I’ve finally cut deep enough. Maybe he’ll see all the fucked up shit we’ve done as exactly what it is: an attempt to compensate for our own miserable lives by ruining the lives of innocent people around us. Or maybe Reiner’s too in over his head to realize that.

Silence falls between us like a thick, oppressive blanket. I rub at the back of my neck and stare at the threadbare carpet beneath my feet. There’s a stain on it, hidden mostly by the leg of the coffee table. I stare at its curved, uneven edges.

“I never thought I would be friends with Eren,” I say, ignoring the heat of Reiner’s heavy gaze. “I wrote him off as just another classmate. I didn’t give a fuck about him or anyone else. He meant nothing to me.”

“That changed, didn’t it?” Reiner asks. “I mean, you got pretty pissed at the party.”

“Eren’s not much different than I am,” I say. “We’re not even close to being the same people, but he gets me. There’s nothing superficial about it. I don’t have to put up a front with him. Football never gave me that freedom. _You_ never gave me that freedom.”

Reiner sucks in a loud breath at that. Emboldened, I sit up straighter in my seat.

“I thought I needed the team. I thought I was nobody if I wasn’t Levi Ackerman, captain of the Titans. But the truth is that I’m so much more than that. I would’ve never been able to see that if it wasn’t for Eren, or even Bertolt for that matter. I can’t sit by and watch someone hurt them. I have to stand up for them because I know they’d do the same goddamn thing for me.”

It feels like a big relief to finally get my true thoughts out. Reiner stares at me for a few minutes. I listen to faint ticking of the clock behind him. His show has come back from its commercial break from now. The light of the television casts a ghostly blue glow on the side of his face. I hadn’t even realized how late it’s gotten.

“…I’m sorry.”

It’s the last thing I expected to hear. Now _I’m_ the shocked one. I run the words over in my head a few times, swallow them down and let them settle deep down inside me. Reiner looks wrecked, halfway to tears, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing at all.

“I’m sure you are,” I say. “but sorry can’t fix this. Sorry can’t fix any of this.”

Reiner nods, resigned. I know he’s smart enough to have figured that out for himself.

“For what it’s worth,” I say, slow and even. “I always thought you would’ve been a better captain than me. You’re much better at appearances than I am.”

I don’t wait for a response. Things aren’t patched up between us, but I don’t want them to be. I have nothing else to say to Reiner. He knows how I feel. How he feels about it is all up to him now.

I stand up without a second thought and leave. The door slams shut hard behind me. It’s oddly satisfying. I tilt my head back and let the cold numb my exposed face. Snow falls in gentle flakes and I let them settle on my eyelashes and the bridge of my nose before they melt away into nothing.

I feel oddly light as I walk down to my car. It feels strange, not having some dark cloud hanging over my head, but I decide instantly that I like it.

* * *

“I think my balls are frozen.”

“Hello to you too,” I say, rolling my eyes. I grab Eren’s hand and help him up onto the ledge I’m sitting on, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting once he’s settled. He sticks his tongue out and then grins, his eyes curving upwards as he does.

“You must want to get deep and personal,” he says, patting the ledge with his uncovered hands.

We’re dressed in hoodies and jeans. We don’t have nearly enough layers on to be up here, but there’s a certain serenity that I get from being on the roof. I guess it has to do with having a place to myself, as dangerous as it may be with the thin layer of ice coating everything.

“What do you mean?” I ask, shaking my head. Eren shrugs, grinning.

“We had our first real conversation up here,” he says, gesturing around us. “You know, about that whole perfect picture life thing.”

“I remember,” I say. Eren nods to himself.

“That was the first time I understood you,” he says. It sounds like a confession, shrouded by the rush of cars beneath us as the cool, winter breeze. “I spent the past four years thinking you were some kind of mystery, but the truth is that we were never that different at all.”

I let the words sink in. Eren watches me curiously, but I don’t explain myself. Not yet, anyway. I let the silence stretch between us until I’m ready to speak.

“I talked to Reiner,” I say.

“When?” Eren says, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Yesterday. Right after I called you.”

“Holy shit,” he mutters, whistling lowly. “How’d it go?”

“Well, I guess,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I was honest.”

“How’d it feel?”

“Good,” I say, grinning. Eren snorts quietly and I swallow hard. “I brought up you. And Bertolt.”

“Levi…”

“I know, but listen,” I say, twisting to face him fully. “You’re important to me. Honest to God. He needed to know that. Hell, I don’t care if _everyone_ knows that. I just have to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

“You can’t protect me from the world,” Eren says quietly. “Just like I can’t protect you all the time.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” I say. “Doesn’t mean I won’t try every single day.”

Eren tilts his head back and stares up at the sky. The sun is yet to rise. I didn’t think Eren would come to the school this early, especially considering how we’ve got a day or so left on break, but I had been pleasantly surprised when he showed up.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” Eren says, smirking. “How the hell am I supposed to keep up?”

I laugh softly.

“You’re fine the way you are.”

“Right,” Eren says, his voice subdued. He packs a snowball in his bare hands but doesn’t throw it. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

He turns to look at me. “Are you okay?”

I consider the words. I’d be lying if I were to say I am, but the truth is that I know I’m slowly getting there. There’s still a lot I have to learn about myself after so long of hiding who I am, but I know I’ve got the tools to do so now. It won’t be an easy journey, not by any means, but I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.

“No,” I say honestly. Eren reaches for my hand and I willingly take it. “But I’ll get there one day.”

“I know you will,” he says, grinning.

“We’ll do it together, right?” I ask, squeezing hard onto Eren’s hand. I’m sure it hurts, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just squeezes my hand back, quick and firm.

“You bet,” he says, and when I look out at the sky it’s streaked with orange.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’ll be difficult to get things back to some sense of normalcy. There are things I’ll never really forget, like Mom’s death or Kenny’s abuse. But I won’t let those instances define me. I can’t change my past, but I can do my damn best to ensure my future is exactly what I want  it to be.

After all, I’m not doing this alone. I’ve got Isabel and Farlan, just like old times. I’ve got Marco and Bertolt, the best things football ever gave me. And, more importantly than anything, I’ve got Eren, who I’ll never let go. I reach up for the brass key hanging around my neck and close my eyes.

For the first time, the air around me tastes sweet when I breathe it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, this story is coming to an end. The next two chapters will be the epilogue: one chapter for Eren, and the final chapter for Levi. Again, I just have to thank each and every single one of you for sticking by me throughout this whole story. It's been a rollercoaster from start to end, but I am so glad to have been able to share it with all of you.


	31. Epilogue: Eren

11:30 am, Friday. My last session with Mina.

I’m sitting on Mina’s plush couch and watching as she opens her laptop.

“I’m incredibly impressed with the progress you’ve made, Eren,” she says. She sounds like she means it. I hope she does.

“I never thought I’d get here,” I admit, twisting my fingers together. “You know, functioning normally and being happy or whatever. It seemed like a pipe dream.”

“You deserve to be happy.”

“It was easier to think I didn’t,” I admit.

Mina doesn’t look surprised by my answer. I stare back at her evenly before I lick my dry lips and nod to myself.

“How do you feel now, Eren? Honestly.”

I take a deep breath. “Well, I’m fucking terrified.”

“Why?”

“It’s…weird,” I say flatly. “I’m so used to having all of my coping mechanisms and trying to forget. But now I don’t want to do any of that. I’m okay with remembering. I’m okay with feeling too much sometimes. Hell, I’m okay with _feeling_.”

“I understand what you mean,” Mina says. “I went through the same thing when my husband died. It took a while for me to feel human again.”

I nod slowly. “I’m still trying to figure it out. I’m not going to say I’m all better now. But I know that I _am_ better. I’m getting there.”

“Healing is an incredibly difficult process,” Mina replies. “You should applaud yourself for all of the positive steps you’ve been taking. You’re taking charge of your life, Eren. There’s something to be said for that level of courage and determination.”

I stare at her for a few moments, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m graduating high school tomorrow,” I say before I can stop myself. Mina smiles encouragingly and my face grows hot. “There was a time where I didn’t think I would be able to. But I…wanted to change.”

“I’m beyond proud of you, Eren,” Mina says. “Really.”

I believe her.

We talk for a little longer, about things like Jean and Historia and even Levi. I don’t even realize the session is over until Mina shuts her laptop quietly. I swallow hard.

“Hey, Mina?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks,” I say, the word coming out far quieter than I thought it would. “Seriously. I think a part of me knew I needed help. I was just really afraid to let go of what happened.”

“You’re not letting go of Mikasa,” Mina corrects me gently. “You’re just learning to heal and grow. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I inhale deeply and stand up. Mina meets me halfway and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. I stare down at the top of her head before I squeeze my eyes shut.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” she murmurs, pressing a thin, white card into my palm. She folds my fingers over it and pats my hand.

“I will,” I say, and I know I actually mean it.

Leaving her office feels somewhat surreal. I stand on the porch for an ungodly amount of time before I finally begin to head home. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or what, but the air seems somewhat warmer as I walk down the street.

Jean is waiting on the couch for me when I get home. I kick my shoes off and shuffle into the living room, where I drop myself down onto the seat next to him.

“How was the appointment?” he asks, pausing the television to give me his full attention.

“It went really well,” I say honestly. I lean my head back against the cushion. “I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough in the beginning. You were right all along. I needed her.”

“Hey,” Jean says, turning to face me fully. “You know I don’t blame you for that.”

“Even though I put you through hell?”

“Even though you put me through hell,” he says. “C’mere.”

I let him pull me into a hug. When he pulls away, he ruffles my hair and laughs. His eyes look a little glassy, but I don’t question it.

“We’re family,” he mutters fondly. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“I know,” I say, letting myself relax against my brother-in-law.

No.

My _brother_.

* * *

8:20 am, Saturday. My bedroom.

I stand in front of my dresser and stare at my reflection. My hair is still damp, smelling faintly of the gel I had hastily worked into it. I don’t know why I even try. It’ll look like I just rolled out of bed by the time lunch rolls around. I guess I’m still trying to keep up an appearance, even now. Except this time, there's nothing fake about it.

I grin to myself at the thought. I’ve never looked at myself this intensely. I never wanted all of my shitty decisions to stare back at me. I was always afraid of what I’d find in the mirror. But things are different now. Way, _way_ different.

My lips twitch. I wish Mikasa could see me now. I hope she’ll be proud of me.

“She would be.”

My eyes meet Jean’s in the mirror. He’s leaning against the doorframe, wearing what has to be the nicest shirt he owns. Mikasa used to always bitch about how he dressed like a bum on his days off. I guess she’d be pretty damn proud of him today too.

I tell Jean so, and he smiles softly.

“You clean up nice,” he says. He grins, wide and even. “C’mon, kiddo.”

I nod and reach for my cap. My graduation robe feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but I don’t think about it. It doesn’t feel real, after all. I never thought I’d be able to wear this gown or cap. I never thought I’d get to see this day. But here I am, about to graduate high school.

The realization of how pretty damn far I’ve come hits me like a ton of bricks. Change always felt like this terrifying thing that I wanted no part of it. But maybe it’s not so bad after all.

I follow Jean downstairs and avert my eyes when I see my parents waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I slide my hands into the pockets of my slacks out of habit and fix them with a grin that I hope looks charming. The honest to God truth is that I feel like I’m ten seconds away from pissing my pants, but no one needs to know that except for me.

“Oh, honey,” Mom says, soft and subdued. She reaches for me and I let her cradle my cheek in her hand. Her hands are soft and smell like the gardenia lotion she slathers on every morning. “I’m so proud of you.”

The words slide into my ear and worm their way down into my gut, where heat pools like molten lava. I nod slowly, tasting the words and repeating them in my head over and over again.

Dad doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. I know he feels the same way. He lets Mom arrange him, Jean, and me into an appropriate pose and snap a few pictures. One for Facebook and one to print out and send to God knows who.

We pile into the car then. I’m surprised that my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst out from my chest. I buckle myself in and sit there calmly, not even the slightest bit worried about the journey to school. It starts raining halfway to school, and I’m suddenly grateful that the ceremony will be held in the auditorium.

Shiganshina High looks like a goddamn mess by the time Dad pulls up to the curb. A bunch of my classmates are bustling about as teachers try to corral them into some kind of orderly line. I curse under my breath and unbuckle myself quickly.

“We’ll meet you inside!” Jean calls before I can slam the door shut.

I flash him a thumbs-up and hurry to the front steps. I barely make it before I hear my name being called. I turn around to see Mr. Smith jogging towards me. His hair is perfectly gelled back and he’s wearing a crisp, black suit that’s already getting dappled with rain drops.

“Mr. Smith,” I say, standing up a little straighter. “What’s up?”

Mr. Smith shakes his head. “I just wanted to congratulate you. I know this year has been incredibly taxing on you, but you really managed to pull yourself together.”

I nod, doing my best not to preen at the praise. I had attended nearly every tutoring session Mr. Smith held. By the time my eighteenth birthday had rolled around in March, I was well on my way to passing. My grades were not phenomenal by any means, but I was doing far better than I once was.

“That means a lot coming from you,” I say, and Mr. Smith pats me on the shoulder.

“I always knew you could do it, Eren. I was just waiting for _you_ to realize that.”

I let the words sink in.

“Thank you. For not giving up on. For understanding me. For…everything.”

Mr. Smith’s eyes crinkle at the corner as his smile. “No, Eren. Thank _you_. Now, go be great.”

He directs me towards the line of graduates. I settle in and give Mr. Smith a genuine smile when I pass him. We march through the hall to the auditorium, where student council members usher us into our places. I sit in my assigned seat and search the crowd for any familiar face.

I spot Bertolt, who instantly vacates his spot to kneel down at my side. One of the student council members snaps at him to get back to his seat, but she’s quickly herded off when the others need her to help manage the chaos outside.

“We made it,” Bertolt says. It doesn’t take me long to realize he’s not talking about graduation.

“Yeah,” I say, and my breath trickles out of me in a relieved sigh. “We did.”

Bertolt looks at me with an expression I can’t quite place. He places a hand on my knee and squeezes. I fold my hand over his and squeeze back, firm enough that he’s sure to feel it.

“Let’s do this,” he says, grinning widely. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so carefree.

I open my mouth to respond but don’t get far. The student council member has returned, so Bertolt scurries off to his seat with a sheepish look aimed my way. I search the crowd for Historia or Levi, but I can’t find either of them. They probably haven’t arrived yet.

I lean back against the hard metal of my chair and shut my eyes. My palms feel suspiciously sweaty. There’s a ball of tightly-coiled nerves sitting in the pit of my stomach. I take a few deep breaths and squeeze my eyes shut tighter.

I can faintly hear the murmuring of the crowd filing in. Every single member of the senior class is dead silent, awaiting the next words that will seal our fate. Mr. Riley, the principal, approaches the podium at the front of the stage and taps on the microphone. My eyes snap open.

When it’s clear the microphone works, he lifts it up to his mouth and shoots the audience a disarming grin. I watch him with rapt attention, a bead of sweat working its way along my hairline and down along my temple.

“It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you all on this lovely morning to Shiganshina High’s 104th graduation ceremony.”

The crowd applauds politely. Mr. Riley launches into a five minute speech about how wonderful it is to see so many people in the audience and how special graduation is. His words come to me in bits and pieces through the buzzing in my ears. I wipe my sweaty palms over my thighs and try to think of anything other than the orange light from the stage lights beating down onto me.

“…And now, without further ado, I present to you the class of 2015!”

The crowd erupts into cheers. We’re not supposed to do anything but sit in our seats and look pretty, but a few kids beat down onto their friends’ backs and whoop loudly. Mr. Riley shoots them a dirty look from his spot at the podium, but they’re in too good of spirits to care.

I watch as Mr. Riley’s eyes dart down to the paper in front of him before he looks out at all the parents. Somehow, I can still hear the sound of the rain beating down onto the roof.

“Michaela Aaron,” he calls.

A girl I barely recognize stands to her feet and accepts her diploma. I sit up straighter in my seat and try to find Levi again. I’m too far back to really see the A’s, though, so I give up trying. I grip onto my knees hard enough to hurt and chew at the inside of my cheek. Mr. Riley goes through the list smoothly, and I repeat the names to myself. None of them mean anything to me.

But then, just as I’m about to look away, I hear it.

“Levi Ackerman.”

Nearly the whole student body has their eyes on him, some of them clapping and cheering. I don’t know how I’ve managed to forget how well-liked he is among our peers.

Levi stands up. My jaw drops down to the fucking floor, and I can hear a few people muttering amongst themselves. Nothing they say sticks out to me. All I can focus on is Levi as he saunters over to Mr. Riley. The tassel on his cap swings lightly with each step, but that’s not what catches my attention.

Levi’s hair is _black_.

I don’t know why it sends a bolt of heat straight to my stomach. Bitterly, I think to myself that now would be a pretty shitty time to get a goddamn boner.

Levi accepts his diploma and shoots the crowd a million-dollar smile that instantly makes me forget all about my nerves. He turns to take his seat and aims it my way, as if he knows exactly where I am.

I smile so hard that my cheeks actually hurt. Mr. Riley prattles on through the names.

“Marco Bott.”

Marco nearly jumps out of his seat in his haste to get to the podium. A bunch of football players clap for him, as well as quite a few members of the student body. I whistle at him as he returns to his seat and he rolls his eyes at me, laughing.

“Reiner Braun.”

Somewhere down the line from me, Franz claps enthusiastically. I crane my neck around the kid beside me to search out Bertolt and am damn proud to see how unaffected he looks. I settle back into my seat and smirk to myself.

I tune out again until I hear Bertolt’s name get called. He trips and nearly face-plants onto the ground, but a girl near him helps him stand up straight. His face looks red as hell when he gets his diploma, and I can’t help but to clap loudly and cheer for him. The smile he gives me damn near makes me want to keep going, but a teacher on the sidelines of the stages gives me a nasty look.

I force my hands into my lap and have to physically restrain myself from doing anything but smiling when Historia’s name gets called. She gets to sit at the front with the A’s because she’s valedictorian. My heart swells with pride.

My ass is damn near numb when Mr. Riley finally gets to the J’s. I search the crowd for Jean or even my parents, and I’m grateful when I spot my brother among the crowd. He flashes me a thumbs up, mirroring my gesture from earlier in the morning.

I take a deep breath. My nerves are back. Not as bad as before, but still there. Absently, I think to myself that I should’ve taken a fucking shot or something before all this, but showing up drunk to graduation probably wouldn't have panned out well.

Mr. Riley waits for the applause to die out before he calls out the next name. My blood roars in my ears.

“Eren Jaeger.”

I stand to my feet and walk to the podium. I don’t feel much of anything as I do. It’s like I’m completely weightless. Mr. Riley smiles warmly when I get near him.

“Congratulations, Eren,” he says, handing me my diploma.

“Thank you, sir,” I say, accepting it and shaking his hand.

The weight of my diploma feels beyond strange in my hands. I don’t try to look for my friends as I make my way back to my seat, too worried I’ll trip or something. I sit down and look down at my trembling hands.

I did it.

 _I made it_.

The words don’t seem real. None of this seems real, not even after Mr. Riley finishes off the names and introduces the valedictorian and salutatorian. The salutatorian goes first, a guy named Franklin who is so nervous that he stammers all throughout his speech. I’m too focused on Historia to pay him much attention.

Historia finally approaches the podium after Franklin. The stage lights set a soft glow around her head. Her hair looks like it’s pure gold, and it’s then that I really get the whole thing about her being a goddess.

Historia places her hands on the podium and tilts the microphone down towards her mouth.

“Good morning, everyone,” she begins, her voice strong and sure. “For the past four years, I have attended Shiganshina High. I am honored to be a member of the 104th class, and it is my pleasure to stand here before all of my classmates and share this moment with them.

The beginning of my story was not easy by any means. I grew up in foster care and found myself bouncing around from house to house. I didn’t know my place, and I never stayed anywhere long enough to put down any roots. 

But then, things started looking up for me. I got adopted when I was in middle school. I really started to change then. I was still cautious about the people around me, but I was allowing myself to feel. I have my best friend to thank for that.”

My cheeks grow red. I wonder if people know she’s talking about me. Historia pauses to let the crowd absorb her words before she continues.

“My circumstances weren’t ideal, but I’m grateful that I went through so many adversaries at a young age. Being unwanted taught me that there are times when life will knock you down. Everything will seem impossible and there will be no light at the end of the tunnel. But _that_ is the moment where you need to pick yourself up and grab hold of something, _someone_ , to get through the day.

I think the thing we fail to recognize as human beings is our dependence on others. It’s easy for us to claim to be independent and say that we don’t need others, but that’s simply not true. We need people because life is full of people. Those that we love and care about help us get through our toughest times.

So, with that in mind, I hope that each and every one of us will carry that lesson with us as we venture into adulthood. The future is a terrifying place, full of unknown circumstances, but it becomes much more manageable once we learn to lean on, support, and respect each other. I would like to thank you all again for being here and sharing this moment me. Congratultions, gradutes!”

Historia steps back from the podium. Mr. Riley shouts at us to remain sitting, but we’re too keyed up to care. We all stand up to our feet and clap loudly, laughing. Some people are already crying.

Mr. Riley shakes his head at us, but there’s a smile on his face.

“On three,” he says, shouting to be heard over us. “One, two, three!”

We toss our caps up into the air. I look up at them, an endless sea of navy and gold, and can’t stop myself from smiling. The caps come crashing down and we laugh as they pelt us just like the rainstorm outside is pelting the building.

Mr. Riley dismisses us then.  Diploma in hand, I instantly push through the crowd to find my friends. I find Historia first, since she’s still near the podium.

“Eren!” she shouts, elbowing past people.

“Hey,” I greet her, grabbing her when she throws her arms around me. I lift her off her feet easily and spin us around in a circle. “You fucking killed it out there, you know.”

“Thanks,” Historia replies, beaming. She pushes lightly at my shoulder and I set her down softly. “Can you believe it, Eren? We just graduated high school.”

“I know,” I say, the words making me feel warm and sated. “I really didn’t think I’d get here for a while.”

“I know,” Historia says softly, but then she smiles disarmingly at me. “I always believed in you. I always will.”

I don’t get to reply, because movement behind Historia catches my eye. Levi stands a little bit behind her, his hands tucked into his pockets and cap tucked under his arm. Historia turns to see what I’m looking at before she nods slowly.

“Catch up with you later?” she asks.

“You bet,” I say. She gives me a quick hug before she gets off stage.

I shuffle forwards towards Levi, waving my diploma at him.

“Aren’t you proud of me?” I ask, watching the way his lips quirk up into a crooked smile.

“So fucking proud,” he murmurs, and when he kisses me I can’t stop myself from laughing against his lips.

* * *

I tell my parents and Jean I’m going to hang out with my friends before I head home. After my mother squeezes me, Historia, Levi, Marco, and Bertolt into a photo, she leaves us to our own devices. Everyone except Levi leaves to go tell their parents we’re going to hang out.

I don’t ask Levi about Kenny. It has everything to do with how this day is about Levi. I would never do anything to take that away from him. Kenny can wait. Levi’s happiness can’t.

Somewhere along the way, Isabel and Farlan join us. We head to a diner to get food and crowd into a booth in the back. Levi looks completely relaxed as he leaves back in his seat, one hand squeezing down onto my knee and the other resting idly on the table.

I’m not sure how long we sit at that booth, but it’s nearly four in the afternoon by the time we leave. The rain has stopped by then, and we all crowd outside the diner and talk for a little bit longer. After promising each other that we’ll keep in touch, we all go our separate ways. Levi and I walk side by side. My feet slide around in my dress shoes and I stare down at the polished tops of them.

Levi takes us to a small creek that runs behind the school. We fold our robes and caps onto the bank and kick off our shoes. It’s early June, that blissful time of year when it’s not hot enough to melt your skin into a puddle. We roll our pants up and get into the water. Levi stands in the middle of the creek while I sit on the bank and watch him, my feet submerged in the water.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

“Do you have eyes on the back of your head?” I retort, rolling my eyes.

He snorts at that, low and controlled. “Something like that.”

I hide my smirk in my knee as I press my face down against it. Levi turns around to face me, his hands in his pockets again.

“I almost pissed myself this morning, you know,” I start, lifting my head. “I never thought I’d be nervous about graduation.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think I sweated through my shirt,” Levi says. “Those stage lights are too fucking hot.”

I snicker and watch as Levi walks over to me, the water sloshing over his feet. He settles onto the bank beside me and we stare out at the creek. The line of trees before us cover us from most of the sun, but beams of light still manage to poke through the thick vegetation. Levi leans back onto his hands and my eyes trace the line of his neck.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” he hums softly.

“What’s with the hair?” I say, jerking my chin towards his dark head.

Levi raises an eyebrow coolly.

“Problem, Jaeger?”

“None, other than that I can’t call you Blondie.”

Levi rolls his eyes.

“You want the truth?”

“If you’re willing to give it.”

I wait patiently for him to speak.

“I guess I’m coming to terms with who I am,” he says. He points up at his head. “This…well, it’s who I am. I guess it sounds kinda dumb, but I’m trying to reinvent myself. Become a better version of myself or something.”

“It’s not dumb,” I say instantly, ignoring the surprised look he gives me. “I’m proud of you. I know how important football was to you.”

“That’s not who I am.”

“I know,” I say. “I know who you are, Levi.”

Levi gives me a wry grin. “Who am I, then?”

I take a few moments to think about it. Levi is many things. It’s damn near impossible to narrow him down to just one, but I think I have an idea. I bite my lower lip and take a deep breath.

“You’re the perfect picture of my life,” I say. I’m not trying to be cheesy or anything like that. I’m just being honest, a feat that’s slowly but surely becoming more natural for me.

Levi’s eyes grow a little wide. I watch him, trying to gauge his reaction, and I’m not prepared for when he knocks me flat onto my back and hovers over me. I’m aware of my own rapid pulse and how his hands curl around my wrists, but not much else.

“You’re fucking unreal, you know that?” he asks, half-teasing and half-serious, and I can’t stop myself from wriggling my hands out from his hands and curling them into his dark hair.

“I try, man,” I mutter, and I pull him down so that his lips meet mine.

I don’t think I can ever get tired of the way Levi makes me feel. I feel him in every goddamn inch of myself, feel how I lose parts of myself only to gain parts of him. We stay connected even though our lips grow numb and kiss-swollen. I can feel the rocks beneath me digging into my back and the damp earth soaking my shirt.

“Hey,” he whispers, preserving the comfortable silence that’s pressing in around us. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” I say, shaking my head. I rake my fingers through his hair and take pleasure in how his eyes briefly slip shut.

“You’re right,” he mutters. “I have to thank you for everything.”

He grabs one of my wrists and presses a kiss to the inside, right against my pulse. My breath hitches and I let my eyes slip shut. The sun bathes my face in warmth. Levi lays flat on top of me, pinning me beneath he solid weight of his body. I breathe in the subtle scent of his cologne and let him seep into each and every single one of my pores.

“I love you, Eren Jaeger,” Levi murmurs, soft and warm. He rests his forehead against mine and I curl my fingers tighter in his hair, my knees still bracketing either side of his hips.

“I love you too, Levi Ackerman.”

It feels normal to say the words. Everything about this, about _him_ , feels right. I’ve never been in love before. I never even knew what those words meant or how I felt about saying them. But everything makes sense with Levi. I know I love him. I know I always will.

I may not know what my future holds or where I’ll be a year from now. But I do know that I want Levi with me for as long as fate will let me have him. I don’t care if that’s for as little as a few more months or as long as a few years.

I’ll take whatever he’s willing to give me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I'd save the serious end note for the very final chapter, so have some fun facts about the fic!
> 
> 1\. In my first draft for this story, Eren was supposed to commit suicide. The story was meant to center on Levi and he struggles to cope with Eren's death. However, I really didn't want to kill Eren! After I began writing the romantic element of their relationship, I found that I couldn't tear them apart. I also figured all of you would hate me lmao.
> 
> 2\. Bertolt actually has a bit of a crush on Eren. Originally, I planned to have him confess his feelings and for him and Eren to engage in a brief relationship, but I really didn't know how to make that work. Considering how I already had Nick as Eren's fuck-buddy and Levi as the romantic interest, I had no desire of making this fic more complicated than it needed to be. I did, however, write an AU of this AU in which Bertolt and Eren end up together. I ended up scrapping it, though.
> 
> 3\. I struggled immensely to write the romantic end of Levi and Eren's relationship at first. I constantly worried that it didn't feel authentic or realistic. I didn't want it to be too much in the reader's face, also, which is why I gave their relationship that sort of chill, laid-back vibe. I felt like they wouldn't stress too much over what exactly they were and would focus more on how they made the other person feel, and that's what I wanted to show.
> 
> 4\. Jean was not supposed to be in the story at first. In fact, he was only supposed to be mentioned at times, like Mikasa. However, I had a self-indulgent urge to make him something other than Eren's rival. Hence brother-in-law Jean!
> 
> 5\. Bertolt and Nick were my favorite side characters to write. They are immensely important in Eren's life, and their presence either contributes to or impedes Eren's attempts at finding closure and healing. While you obviously don't get to see or hear about them as much as Eren or Levi, I thought they were so important. I just really loved them, okay?
> 
> Well, that's all I've got. Again, thank you for reading this story. See you next chapter!! :)


	32. Epilogue: Levi

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s only two days, but I’ll take what I can get,” Eren replies, laughing breathlessly when I crowd him up against the door of my apartment, my hands already settled on his sides.

He smiles indulgently at me and leans forward to press a solid kiss against the corner of my lips. The giddy feeling swirling around in my gut has yet to fade, and I feel like I’m ten seconds away from exploding.

Going to Sina National University, or SNU for short, is one of the decisions I’ve grown to regret. None of my friends had applied there, meaning I was left all alone. Bertolt and Marco had gotten into UTrost and Isabel, Farlan, and Eren had gotten into St. Rose University. SNU is a good school, but it just sucks to see all of my friends close to each other while I’m stuck across the country.

Eren’s eyes grow soft and he runs his fingers through my bangs. I exhale softly and press my face against the juncture between his neck and shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Missed me, baby?” he asks.

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe,” I reply.

He kisses me again and I finally step back so he can take his jacket off. I rub the back of my neck and watch as he rolls his suitcase next to the shoe rack.

“Where’s your roommate?” he asks curiously, following after me as I lead us to the kitchen.

“Who, Connie? He left when I told him you were coming. Something about not wanting to be the third wheel or something.” I open the fridge and dig out last night’s leftovers. “Are you hungry, Eren?”

“Gotcha,” Eren says. He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. I could eat a little.”

We lapse into silence after that. Eren keeps shooting me curious glances, causing me to raise my eyebrows.

“What?” I mutter, beginning to spoon spaghetti onto a plate for him. Eren shakes his head. “C’mon, what is it?”

“I just…uh, has Kenny called you? I mean, I know he’s a dick and everything. But has anything changed?”

“Ah.” I pause, Eren shifting awkwardly in the doorway. I pop his plate into the microwave and lean against the counter, watching as he stares at me expectantly. “I haven’t talked to him since I moved out here.”

Eren’s lip twitches. “Levi, that’s not—”

“Normal? I’m sure it’s not.” There’s a tense edge to my voice that I wish I could hide. “Not everyone has a storybook ending. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Doesn’t it piss you off, though?” Eren asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s just…I don’t _get_ it.”

“It doesn’t bother me. You shouldn’t let it bother you either.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Eren—”

The microwave cuts off my response. I take a deep breath and turn to get Eren his food.

“C’mon, time to eat.”

I slide the plate across the counter to him and hand him a fork. Eren takes it and sits behind the counter, tapping his fork against the edge of the plate.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” I say, turning towards the sink full of dirty plates. I had asked Connie to take care of them last night, but apparently he forgot. I focus on my annoyance towards my roommate so that I don’t think about the sick feeling my uncle’s name leaves behind in the pit of my stomach.

Eren begins to eat. I begin doing the dishes, letting the sound of running water fill the silence.

“This is a nice place,” he says after a few moments. I nod absently.

“I wanted to dorm at first, but then I saw that the off campus housing wasn’t too bad. I’m working at a café too now. My boss is pretty cool. She’s got this thing about feeding the starving youth or whatever, so she usually lets me take home leftovers.”

”That’s pretty awesome.” Even chuckles. His smile wavers and I look at him questioningly. 

“Even?”

“…I miss you,” he whispers.

“I know,” I say, setting the last of the clean plates onto the rack to dry. “I miss you too.”

Eren sets his fork down gently.

“It doesn’t feel the same without you. It doesn’t feel like home.”

“I wish I could’ve stayed.”

Eren snorts. “I wouldn’t have let you. Don’t you think it’s time you did something for _you_?”

I shrug. “Staying would’ve benefitted me.”

“You know that’s not true. Things needed to change,” he says, looking so sure of himself. “Sina’s good for you. Better than Shiganshina.”

“You’re good for me too, you know,” I say. “You always have been.”

Eren’s mouth drops open, but he doesn’t say anything. He shakes his head and continues eating. He washes his plate after he’s done and leans back against the counter. I mirror his movements and cross my arms over my chest.

“You’re right. About getting away and everything. Especially from Kenny,” I say. “I applied to SNU because I thought it was far enough.”

“Levi…”

“I never thought he’d want me gone too,” I say, shrugging to myself. “I knew this wouldn’t make him care. It’s okay that he doesn’t. I’m used to it.”

Eren nods to himself slowly. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

I smile gratefully.

We head into the living room, where I let him pick from Connie’s rather shitty movie collection. He settles on _Step Up_ for some weird reason and forces me to sit down even as I try to leave. I’m sure we can both tell that I have no plans of going anywhere.

“I’ve never seen this movie,” I admit as the opening scene begins.

“Dude, seriously?” Eren asks, turning his head to give me an affronted look. “First The Godfather and now this. Why am I even dating you?”

“Because you love me,” I say, pulling him towards me so I can plant a wet kiss on the curve of his jaw. He squirms away, yelling something about missing the movie, but he’s smiling.

While Eren focuses his attention on the screen, I focus my attention on him. He looks oddly comfortable on the couch, even though it’s his first time being in my apartment. He’s seen my room from the few times we’ve Skyped, but we’ve both been so busy with classes that we usually settle for a few minutes of texting back and forth. It’s hardly ideal, but I guess that’s what happens in long-distance relationships.

Something warm fills my chest then. I don’t know what it is, but I like the way it feels. I’ve only ever felt it with Eren, and I guess that’s part of why I’m okay with it.

He has his hands folded on his stomach, so I reach over wiggle my fingers underneath one of his hands. He smirks at the action but lets me rearrange our fingers so that they’re curled together tightly. He slides his head down so that it’s resting against my shoulder and squeezes my hand.

“Thanks for coming,” I whisper into his hair, squeezing my eyes shut.

Eren strokes his thumb over the back of my hand and doesn’t say anything.

I don’t need him to.

* * *

“So what kind of touristy stuff are we gonna do?” Eren asks, peering out of the apartment window. 

“I could show you the beach,” I murmur, checking the weather on my phone. “It’ll be, like, sixty degrees outside.”

Eren whistles softly. “California is weird as fuck. It’s like the middle of November.”

I shrug, unsure of how to respond. Eren grins, the sunlight falling around him gently, and I make up an excuse about needing to clean the bathroom just to stop myself from staring.

We end up going to beach shortly after that. Eren cups his hands around his eyes and peers down the shoreline, where a woman is playing with her son on the water’s edge. He takes off his shoes and approaches the water, sinking his toes into the sand.

“I’ve only been the beach once before,” he says, catching my attention. I furrow my eyebrows and he shrugs. “I was five. I don’t really remember much. Mikasa had just graduated high school and I just finished kindergarten. It was kinda special, I guess.”

I tuck my thumbs into my pockets and gaze out across the water. The sun is just starting to set off in the distance, and the water glistens underneath the dying rays of light.

“My mom always wanted to go to California,” I say. Eren looks at me silently, waiting for me to continue, and I clear my throat quietly. “Her parents disowned her and she wanted to get as far away as she could. She used to want to be an actress. Before I came along and stuff.”

“That’s cool,” Eren says, jerking his chin towards the ocean. “Your mom had good taste.”

“Yeah?” I take a deep breath. “I think I applied to SNU partly because of her. It was her dream school. She never got to go, though. I figured I could try and live out her dream or something. It’s kinda stupid, now that I think about it.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eren says firmly. “I understand why you did it.”

“That makes one of us,” I mutter. Eren shuffles closer towards me, close enough that I can feel the heat of his skin through my thin shirt.

“But…what about _your_ dreams?”

I let the words swirl around in my head for a few minutes. I never gave much thought to my dreams. I never really had any, to be honest. I went through life passively. Things would happen to me and I would just deal with them without giving any of it much thought.

“I don’t know,” I say, biting at the inside of my cheek. “I think I’m trying to figure it out now.”

We walk along the beach for a little while until Eren yanks excitedly at my hand.

“What?” I ask, laughing as he tugs me along.

“Carnival,” he says simply, grinning freely. I look up ahead and see that the carnival is in full swing. I remember Connie mentioning something about wanting to go, but I had turned him down. “Don’t tell me you’ve never gone.”

“I’ve been to the carnival before,” I say, rolling my eyes. Eren snickers.

“Okay, just making sure. I don’t know with you sometimes.”

I roll my eyes again but don’t say anything. Eren buys us both tickets and we walk around inside, weaving in and out of the crowd. He doesn’t let go of my hand, even when some old guy gives us a weird look, and I’ve never been more grateful for his utter disregard of what people think of him.

I don’t know how we end up on the Ferris wheel, but I’m pushed onto one of the benches before I can fully comprehend what’s happening. Eren slides in next to me, his thigh pressed up solidly against mine.

“I’ve never gone on one of these,” he says.

“Neither have I,” I reply, and when we look at each other we can’t stop ourselves from laughing.

When the gondola reaches the top, Eren leans over and presses his lips to mine gently. It’s feather light and over far too quickly. By the time he pulls away, I’m still trying to get my brain to unscramble. I exit the ride on wobbly legs and try to ignore Eren’s loud, cackling laughter.

We continue through the carnival. I play one of those games where you have to get the ball through a series of hoops and win Eren a little teddy bear. He tweaks one of its fluffy brown ears and snickers to himself.

“What?” I ask, my cheeks flushing, and Eren shakes his head.

“He reminds me of you,” he says, smirking. He taps his finger against the bear’s scowl. “All rough and tough on the outside, but soft on the inside.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s true,” he insists, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.

We stop to get cheese fries and eat them on one of the few empty benches. I’m so hungry that I dig in before Eren can even sit down. He hits my fork playfully with his and takes a couple fries for himself.

“I’ll probably have to leave early tomorrow,” Eren says to no one in particular. I look at the teddy bear nestled on his lap and swallow hard. The melted cheese feels like it’s burning my throat as it slides down to my stomach. “I have a late class, so…”

“You already have to leave, huh?” I murmur. Eren nods, the movement a little jerky.

“I thought we had more time.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Me too.”

We had back to my apartment after we finish eating. Eren sets the teddy bear on the table and heads into the living room to find something for us to watch. I stand in the kitchen for a few minutes, feeling like I’m completely out of my body. I’m not ready for Eren to go, but I guess that’s just how life is. It’ll just keep going and going, regardless of whether you’re ready for it to or not.

I’m about to go into the living room when my phone starts ringing from where I’ve left it on the counter. I grab it without thinking, figuring it’s Connie checking in on me. In the short time I’ve been at SNU, he’s become a good friend of mine. I guess part of it has to do with how he answered my desperate ad for a roommate.

When I see that it’s a FaceTime request, I find myself blinking down at the screen in confusion. Connie hates FaceTime with a passion, but that’s mostly because he has no idea how to use it. I accept the call and listen as Eren mutes the television.

“Hello?”

“Levi!” The camera is facing the ground for a few seconds before it switches to Sammy’s face. He adjusts it so that his face is centered and gives me a toothy grin.

“Sammy?” I ask, staring down at my screen. My brother waves enthusiastically. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Nothing much. Mom said you started college so I wanted to say hi. Have you made any friends yet? Mom says college food is good. Is that true?”

“Whoa, one thing at a time,” I say, chuckling. I remember Eren sitting in the living room and clear my throat softly. “Hey, Sammy. Do you wanna meet someone special?”

“Yeah!”

I grin at the camera and move into the living room. Eren looks at me curiously, even more so when I sit down next to him and angle my phone towards him.

“Sammy, this is Eren. He’s my boyfriend,” I say, noticing how Sammy’s eyes instantly dart to Eren.

“He’s pretty. For a boy, anyway,” Sammy says, and his brutal honestly has me struggling to hold back a snort.

“Eren, this is Sammy. He’s my little brother.”

“I’m not little. I’m eleven.”

“Right, sorry,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Did your brother just roast me?” Eren whispers at the same time, sounding mildly offended. He shakes his head and sits up a little straighter. “Hey, little dude. I’m Eren.”

“I’m not little!”

“You look little to me,” Eren says, holding his fingers about an inch apart. “Like, _really_ little.”

“I am _not_!” Sammy insists, actually sounding angry, and I figure it’s time to intervene.

“Alright, settle down. Eren’s just teasing you.”

Sammy pouts a bit but seems to let it go. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” I ask, ignoring how Eren seems to be a little too interested in my response. “I’m okay, kiddo. College is fun. It’s different than high school. I guess you could say it’s better.”

Sammy nods to himself. “I thought you’d be really lonely.”

I open my mouth, unsure of how to respond, but then Eren saves me by answering.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’m keeping him company.”

Sammy looks at Eren for a few moments before he hums softly, seemingly pleased by that answer.

“I know. Thanks. Take care of him, okay?”

“I will,” Eren says, sliding his hand into my free one. “Don’t worry.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end, and I can hear Olivia faintly speaking in the background. Sammy groans before he turns his attention back to the phone.

“Mom says it’s getting late,” he says.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll call you later in the week. Your birthday’s coming up, right?”

Sammy smiles, laughing. “You remembered!”

“Of course I did, kiddo. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Levi! Oh, and Eren!”

“Bye, Sammy,” Eren says, waving.

Sammy hangs up and I slide my phone onto the table. Eren laughs softly.

“Your brother’s pretty cute. Mature for his age, too.”

“Yeah, he’s really observant,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t get to talk to him that much. But it’s gotten better after my dad left, believe it or not.”

“You’re not alone, you know,” Eren says suddenly. I raise my eyebrows and Eren rushes to explain himself. “I mean, you may not have Kenny, but you have all of your friends and Sammy. All of these people love you and care about you.”

“I know,” I say, leaning down so that my head is resting against the couch of the arm rest. I pull at Eren’s arm until he follows after me, our faces so close that I can feel his breath hitting the bottom of my chin. He folds his arms across my chest. His weight is an even, pleasant pressure against my body.

Eren leans down to kiss me and I feel myself melt into him. He sits up on top of me and I find myself chasing after him, nearly desperate to feel him. He grabs my hands and slides them underneath his shirt.

“Okay?” he asks against my lips, and I nod and kiss him again, spreading my hands out against his stomach.

His skin is warm and soft beneath my fingers. I try to memorize the feel of him, how his body yields to me. When we break away from each other, we’re both breathing heavily. Eren sits back on my lap and I slide my hands down to rest on his thighs.

“Levi…”

I swallow hard at the way he says my name, all low and breathy, and try to ignore the spike of heat that bursts in my stomach.

“Eren?”

He rests his hands over mine and links our fingers together.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” I say automatically, and Eren crashes down into me.

I take his hand and lead him to my room, where he tugs me down onto the bed and lets me rest between his thighs. His eyes, beautiful and green, bore into mine as I press kisses to all hints of bare skin I can find.

I don’t know where I end or where he begins. Every line blurs together into a mess of vibrant, bright colors, and my breath gets stuck somewhere in my chest. I think to myself that I’m lucky, that I’m lucky to have Eren and every single goddamn inch of him. I don’t want any of it to end, because the end means that we’re one step closer to being separated again.

The sheets are cool against my bare body when I lay down on my back. I listen to Eren’s heavy breathing from beside me and try to level my own gasping breaths. There’s sweat lining every crevice of my body, and I throw an arm over my forehead. It’s too hot for us to be pressed up against each other, but I drag Eren into my side and press a lingering kiss against the side of his neck.

“Gross,” he mutters, swatting at the top of my head, but he doesn’t push me away.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I say. I scrape my teeth against his neck, just to feel how Eren arches up and shivers against me, and I let him tangle knots into my hair with his fingers. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“You didn’t make me cry,” he whispers.

I instantly think back to that party, the one where I had bathed Eren and listened as he explained exactly why he had sex with people. I remember kneeling next to the tub, water soaking my jeans, and thinking that I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst enemy.

My chest aches with the memory and I struggle not to tuck him into my side, to hide him away so that the world can never make him feel like that again.

“I didn’t.” I watch how Eren rolls onto his stomach and lets the sheets pool around his waist.

He smiles, soft and honest. “This is the first time I didn’t _want_ to cry.”

I let the words sink into every inch of me, playing them over and over until I swear I have them memorized.

“I love you,” he says. I’ll get over how the words make me feel, how _Eren_ makes me feel.

“I love you too,” I say, and I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life.

* * *

We sleep through Eren’s alarm three times before we finally manage to get up. He showers while I make breakfast. Once he’s finished, I slide a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs across the table. I head into the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth, and when I come out I press a kiss to Eren’s temple as I round the counter to get my food.

We eat in relative silence. I swallow down the last bit of my eggs and rub the back of my neck.

“What time is your flight?” I ask.

“Nine thirty,” Eren replies. I look over at the time on the oven, seeing that we have a little less than two hours.

“Okay.”

Eren and I take his stuff down to my car. I put everything in the backseat and slam the door shut. There’s something strangely final about it, but I shake the thought away and look at Eren. He leans back against the car, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s gonna be weird,” he says.

“What?”

“Going home without you,” he replies softly. “I didn’t really think about it. But…it’s happening, isn’t it?”

I swallow roughly and stand in front of me, resting my hands on either side of his body. Eren looks down at me and I press a soft kiss to his cheek. I rest my forehead against his and count his breaths, feeling him slide his hands onto my back.

“Don’t think about it,” I say. “I’ll come see you. I know it’s hard, but we can do it. I know we can.”

Eren exhales shakily and laughs softly. “Don’t go falling in love with someone else while I’m gone.”

“I’d never dream of it,” I say honestly.

“Promise?” Eren asks, holding his pinky out. I circle my pinky around his and squeeze, bringing our joined fingers up so that I can press a kiss against his.

“Promise.”

We stand like that, just holding each other, until Eren pulls away and thuds his head back against my car.

“We should get going,” he says.

“Right,” I murmur. “Can’t have you missing your flight.”

“It wouldn’t mind,” he says, but he gets into the car obediently when I open the door for him.

The drive to the airport feels like it goes by far too quickly. We’re inside before I know it, and I watch as Eren drags his bag behind him. Once it’s been tagged, he turns to me and bites his lip.

“So…this is it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I guess so,” I say, swallowing hard. “You got everything?”

“Yup,” he says, twisting the suitcase for emphasis. “I kinda already miss you.”

“Yeah,” I say, my fingers itching to touch him again. “I kind already miss you too.”

“I’ll come back again soon,” he promises. “You’re gonna be sick of me.”

“Impossible,” I say, and Eren laughs heartily.

“I love you, Levi Ackerman,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I return the gesture, digging my fingertips so hard into his side that I swear I can feel the impressions I’ve left behind.

“I love you too, Eren Jaeger,” I say, kissing him soundly.

“I have to go now,” Eren says, rubbing his thumb against my lower lip.

“I know, Eren,” I say. I untangle myself from him and step back to give him room.

Eren gives me a blinding smile as he turns toward the gate. I slide my hands into my pockets and can’t stop myself from smiling back, my cheeks aching dully with the effort of it.

I’m still smiling by the time I leave the airport and get settled in my car. I just sit there for a while, my head leaned back against the rest. My phone goes off and I dig it out of my pocket, switching the screen on to look at the new message.

**_So…same time next week?_ **

I laugh, unable to stop myself.

 _Of course, sweetheart_.

I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now, or hell, even a few _months_. The past year has been a whirlwind, with so many ups and downs that I don’t even know where to begin. It’s been jarring, trying to reorient myself and figure out who I am, but I know that I couldn’t have done it alone. I’ve had Eren with me for every step of the way. He’s supported and understood me, even when I could barely understand myself. He’s all that I need, all that I think I’ll _ever_ need.

And honestly, I think I’m perfectly alright with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’ve finally reached the end of this story! It’s been a complete roller coaster ride from start to finish, but I wouldn’t change a thing. This story is probably the first piece I’ve written where I’ve gotten 100% attached to the story and characters. This story taught me so many things, and I hope that it was able to do that for someone of you. Even though it’s over, this will always be my baby. 
> 
> I honestly don’t think a thank you can fully describe all of my feelings. Without the never ending support and encouragement I received from all of you, I don’t think I could have done this. You guys have given me strength when I thought I had none and I really do love each and every one of you. Thank you for helping me give this story life!!!


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